The 72nd hunger games
by adoeinthemeadowes
Summary: Epperly Steelstrom is a seventeen-year-old girl living in District Four. Her brother died in the games ten years before. Now she's reaped, with no Careers to volunteer for her. Can Finnick help her win? Or will her family have to face losing another child in the Hunger Games? Welcome to the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins owns all
1. Chapter 1

I'd give anything to be in the ocean today.

Every ounce of me is desperate to wade in the ankle-deep water with my friend Ginger, gathering shells and broken starfish while we chatted mindlessly about the happenings in District Four. Or maybe crouching with my older brothers, net in hand, ready to spear a fish for our dinner table. I've gotten pretty good with the spears lately and it only make me more anxious to practice. For so long, I only worked on nets. The spears scared me. It wasn't until my brother Zale insisted I learn, that I got any good with them.

Even from my room I can smell the salt from the ocean in the breeze. It's calling me, becoming me to abandon my plans for the day and dive deep into its familiar waters.

Every ounce of me wants to listen, but it's Reaping Day and so I have no choice. I'll have to swim later.

My mouth fills with terror as I think about the two large glass orbs that hold the names of every boy and girl from my district. Today, two of them will be chosen as tributes, and brought to the capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. I shiver again. I know the games are supposed to fun, especially in a Career District like mine, but even the thought of them sends tremors of fear down my spine.

The idea of the Games doesn't excite me like it does the other kids who live here. I've never harbored any desire to enter the Arena, to fight for my life against twenty-three others. Not once did I ever consider training in one of the Career Academies like so many others here do, even if my parents _had_ allowed it. It wouldn't have helped. I wasn't ever skilled enough to be crowned a victor. If I were to enter the Games, I'd _die_. So, every Reaping, I keep my head down and wait as they draw names pointlessly.

I turn to face my reflection in the mirror and am presently surprised by what looks back at me. Reaping Day is a holiday across Panem, but especially in District Four. We're expected to look our very best, in the slim chance that one of us is on National Television in front of all of Panem.

My long bronze-colored hair hangs down my back in perfect waves, curtsey of the rollers my mother lent me the night before, and even I'm impressed with how nice it looks. It's usually hangs stringy and dry from all of the time I spend fishing in the ocean. Years of salt water has done its damage to it. Still, I'm luckier than most. I have my mother's classic District Four good looks, and her large ocean-blue eyes, almost too large from our sharp bone structure.  
The dress I were is simple and the same one I wore last year; loose, sleeveless and white. Some girls in the district buy new reaping dresses every year. I don't see the point; I might as well limit the dislike I feel for the whole day to this one dress. I pair it with brown woven sandals.

It doesn't matter much what I wear, because I know I won't be seen. I will be buried in the Seventeen-year old's section, behind all of the giant eighteen-year olds from the Academy, the one's itching to volunteer. With all of them standing there, no one will even see what I'm wearing.

"Epperly!"

I hear my mother's call and know it's time to eat something before we head off to the Reaping. I run my fingers easily through my hair one last time and head off to find her. The first thing I smell is the fish bake. The lingering scent curls around the kitchen of our modest home and drift toward the bedrooms. My nose prickles and I can pick out all of the ingredients easily; the grain, cheddar cheese, cod, scallops, and seaweed. It's my favorite. I know it's our special dinner for later when this whole mess is over and my family retreats to our home to try and forget about what we see today. Most of the District will linger in the square, celebrating the beginning of their favorite annual tradition. We won't. Unlike the other citizens of our district, my family hates the Games. We have good reason to, but it doesn't stop most people from seeing our behavior as peculiar.

My parents are seated at our wooden kitchen table with all four of my brothers. Each of them is dressed nicely, a nice change of pace from their usual jean cutoffs and tank tops. They all have the same easy attractiveness of the other fisherman in the district; large muscles and tanned skin. It's nice that they're here, since it must be for me. Zale, Tucker and Lennox haven't been eligible for the reaping for several years now, and last year was Byron's last eligible year. I'm the youngest and still have two more reaping's to go.

On the table in front of them is several green seaweed rolls and cold strips of fish. No one is really touching the food, instead they sit silently, waiting for me to join them. I take a seat between my father Byron. My father makes me a plate and slides it to me. I thank him but know I am too nervous to eat. I mostly pick at it.

"Nervous, Epps?" Byron asks with a shake of his head, watching me shred one of the rolls in front of me.

My voice falters as I answer him. "It's a Reaping day, I'd be stupid not to be."

I can feel the steady dread creeping back into me. My name is only in there six times. The chances of it being chosen when so many people have taken out tesserae is highly unlikely, but it could happen. The idea of my name being chosen makes my bones tighten and I see my mother grimace. Nothing would horrify her more than hearing her only daughter's name being called. Especially after what happened to my eldest brother. But I don't dare mention that. Today is not the day to bring up Wilder.

"You'll be fine," Zale says. "You won't be called."

Lennox nods in agreement, "And even if you are, one of those Careers from the Academy will volunteer for you."

"You'd have to fight them for your spot," Tucker chuckles, clearly trying to assuage my fears.

I watch as my parents exchange a dark grimace. Even imagining my reaping is causing them physical pain. Their faces are already too worn with wrinkles from their last child who was reaped. They can't handle another.

I reach for my father's hand. "Don't worry. I'll be fine," I tell him fiercely. My tone is so firm and sure even I start to believe it.

We eat in silence for a while, until the front door opens and Byron's closest friend Ivan treks in, a large goofy smile plastered across his face.

"Cheer up, Steelstroms'" he says taking a seat at the table. "It's Reaping Day!" His tone is sarcastic. He knows why the room is so tense. He grew up with Wilder too. Ivan is a few months younger than Byron. This will be his last reaping. It makes me feel a little better, knowing that he will be in the crowd too, giving me someone to look too.

"Epperly is a little fidgety already," Byron warns him. "Don't make it any worse.

"Is that Epperly?" Ivan pretends to squint at me. "I don't think I've ever actually seen her this clean and _dry_ " The comment is dripping with sarcasm. Byron has told me about Ivan's proclivity for me, and he knows it.

I roll my eyes at him. "Bite me."

I lob one of the green rolls at his head and catches it deftly, an inch before his face. My mouth falls open. Maybe Ivan should be reaped, if he has skills like that. Reflexes that quick can usually turn a tribute into a victor. I imagine the roll was a knife, searing through the air towards him and wonder if he could catch that as easily. I think of Wilder and the thought disappears immediately. Even the strongest among us still die bloody in the Arena.

Ivan grins at me, unaware of where my thoughts were traveling too, and flashes me the gap between his two front teeth. When we were younger, I used to tease him for it. Now I think it makes him look very unique.

"We should go," My mother says quickly. "It won't benefit either of you to be late."

She's right. In a matter of minutes the Peacekeepers will start combing the houses looking for people attempting to skip the Reaping. Begrudgingly I leave our tiny home.

The walk to the justice building and pavilion takes no time. We live too close to it. Most of the District is already there when we arrive. The eligible children are being ushered to their spots in front of the stage, while the family heads to the surrounding waiting areas, clustered in front of the shops. I walk slowly to my place letting my feet drag across the sandy ground, feeling every single grain on my toes. It's hot today and the sun burns down on my freckled shoulders. In the distance, the cicadas screech violently. These are the sounds of home.

I make my way with Ivan to the groups of teenagers. We separate when we reach them, and I watch as he disappears to the front of the boy's section. I bury myself in the middle of a group of seventeen-year-old girls and search bitterly for any sign of Ginger. She bounds in at the last minute, panting. She was obviously afraid to be late. Her curly orange hair, for which she was named, is carefully arraigned into an up do. Her satin pink dress is new. Excitement is evident on her face and it makes my stomach flip rapidly. Sometimes things like that make it hard for us to get along. Ginger's family is very wealthy and wholly supports the Games. She plans to volunteer when she' eighteen. She frequently gushes about it, and I hate every minute of it. Deep down I know that she's a good person. She just doesn't see the problem with the Games. Some time ago, I was just like her. It takes me a few seconds to remember that.

"I thought you were going to miss it!" I hiss at her. My nerves are making me a little jumpy.

She shakes her head as she slides into place beside me. "Miss the reaping? I'd never. I wait _all_ year for this."

She does. Every year, she invites the other girls from our year at school over to her giant house in town to watch every aspect of the games from the readings to the victory tour. I usually abstain but it doesn't stop them from talking about it in cheery voices at the lunch table.

Ginger's eyes rake up and down me. "Honestly do you have to look _so_ good all of the time?" She scowls. "If I looked like you do, I'd volunteer immediately. Think of the sponsors you'd get looking like that."

I freeze in place, my hands balling into fists. _The sponsors I'd get?_ I want to laugh. Being pretty gets you _some_ sponsors but only when a lethal killing ability lies underneath the good looks. Not to mention, Ginger knows I'd never volunteer. Not after Wilder.

She looks at the horror written across my face and her tone immediately changes. "Right. Sorry I forgot about Wilder for a second there. Of course, you wouldn't volunteer. I'm _such_ an idiot. Forgive me." She's pleading now. Her face has turned slightly pink with embarrassment and she batts her eyes quickly at me.

"It's fine, Ginger." I assure her. "It wasn't anything I wasn't thinking about anyway."

Wilder's face had been cropping in and out of my mind all day, no matter how many times I tried to stop it. I remember him standing up on that stage so clearly it stings. I remember him as a tribute. I remember his death.

"Do you know whose volunteering this year?" Ginger asks quickly, changing the subject. I can see how uncomfortable my reaction had made her and she's searching desperately for a way to talk about anything else. Her eyes dart to the group of eighteen-year old's commanding the front of the square. I scan them carefully. Each and every one of them are huge, and look brutal. They'd all have a decent chance at winning.

I shake my head. "No, do you?"

Ginger shrugs. "I heard something about the teachers at the academy choosing Kenrick and Herja. I know they're the best, but you never _know_. Someone else might volunteer first. Last year was pretty brutal. I'm sure a bunch of them are itching to get into the arena."

My chest tightens. Last years was a particularly brutal year. It only makes me more nervous. The idea of that brutality making someone _want_ to join the Games, makes my skin crawl.

I look to the stage. The reaping balls are stuffed to the brim with thousands of names. So, stuffed it makes me wonder how many people took out tesserae this year. District Four is a pretty wealthy district, and while most of our people are well-fed, we still have our poor and hungry.

Standing beside the bowls is our escort, Devereux Millington. He's new to us this year, promoted from District Nine after their tributes did decently last year. He's a tall man with skin so pale it almost looks silver. His snow-white hair is long and carefully arraigned into two waist length braids. On his lips, he wears green lipstick. I almost snort. He's so _Capitol_. He looks like's he's never set foot anywhere near the water. What a change District Four must be. We're surrounded by water on three sides. You can smell it in the air. I wonder if it's making him sweat off his makeup. He doesn't look too used to the heat because he keeps dabbing at his forehead. Beside him are the Victors. We have many, so many that like in Districts 1 and 2, our Victor's Village's had to be extended. Today only two sit on the stage; Mags and Finnick. Mags is elderly. I assume she's only here because Annie Cresta is still not okay after her own win. Two years later and she still hasn't recovered. Finnick sits proudly, talking excitedly to Mags, his eye lingering on the hopeful tributes in the front rows. When he makes eye contact, he winks.

Finnick is beautiful ad very aware of that fact. He mentors almost every year because he's so beloved by the people of both District Four and the Capitol. He helped Annie win only five years after his own games. People believe Finnick can make a tribute into a victor.

Our attention is immediately taken by the mayor, a tall balding man with a round belly. He speaks loudly into the microphone for a few minutes about the history of what we're doing, and how proud he is to participate. It's the same speech every year and by now I'm growing bored. I just want them to announce the tributes already so I can go home and stop worrying. Finally, it's time.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Devereux says loudly, "May the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

I feel the dread slowly creeping over my shoulder again, weighing me down with fear. Odds aren't in my family's favor. Wilder was reaped. I could be too.

"Ladies first," Devereux chirps as he plunges him arm deep into the reaping ball. He takes a minute to feel for the piece of paper he wants.

No one breathes as he plucks one carefully from the ball and smooths it out. It's so quiet, you can hear a pin drop. He turns to the microphone and grins, flashing his perfectly, curved teeth. The sight of them makes me flinch. Each one ends in a perfect U shape. Capitol people are strange. I'm so distracted by how inhuman they look that I almost miss the name he says. Not that I don't recognize it.

"Epperly Steelstrom!" he shouts happily.

It's my name.


	2. The Mentor

Ten years ago, my family supported the Games 100%. It was the same year my sixteen-year-old brother Wilder was reaped.

Back then, it had been a gift. We were proud, and truly believed he could win. He was fast and very good with a multitude of weapons. It looked good for him. District Four had an advantage that year. The arena was tropical and filled with an ocean-like lagoon that he thrived in. As the Games went on, he did even better. He had good sponsors and looked likely to win. My parents and brothers had gushed when the Capitol came to do the top eight interviews. We hugged each other excitedly when he made it to the top four, then three. He was beloved by the Districts and the Capitol alike, favored to win. When he made it to the top three, two of the tributes from District 1 and 2, trapped him and tortured him for hours. It was bloody and gruesome and lasted far too long. We spent over twenty-four hours watching the other tributes mutilate and dismember my brother on _National Television_. When they finished, they placed his head on a pike. The girl from District 1 won that year. Her name was Neela.

From then on, we hated the Games. We didn't train in the Academy. We didn't watch anything that wasn't mandatory.

None of my other brothers were reaped and none of them volunteered. District Four didn't have another winner until three year later when Finnick won.

I can feel is Ginger squeezing my wrist. I can't tell if it's out of excitement, worry or jealousy. I don't have time to figure it out. On all sides of me, the sea of Seventeen-year old's part and I feel the large camera's zero in on me. Fear has locked my bones in place and I'm not sure if I can move.

My name was called. _I was reaped._

My worst fear has come to fruition. I knew I had a right to be nervous. Somehow, I _knew_ this would happen. I've always had terrible odds…

I'm having difficultly processing the entire thing. All I know is that seconds are passing and there is an entire country watching me. Somehow that's motivation enough for my limbs to begin to work and I head for the stage.

Ginger is staring at me now with something I think is definitely jealousy. Her face is even but her mouth is pointed downward. I don't know why she looks like that. If she wants my place, she can have it. All she has to do is volunteer. But I know she won't. She'll wait until she's had all the training she can at the Academy. She's just bitter she has to wait another year. I can't imagine feeling jealous of anyone standing up here. All I feel is fear.

My eyes threaten to fill with tears but I blink them back and keep my face poised and elegant as I make my way to the stage and stand beside Devereux Millington.

"Well," Devereux looks at me with a pride. His eyes widen the same way Ginger's did when she saw me. "Don't you look beautiful. Had a feeling you might be chosen today, I bet? You certainly look ready to head to the capitol" He lets out a throaty laugh and waits for me to join in. I don't. Instead he takes my hand and spins me for the cameras.

The only thing I feel is pure dread. It's clinging to me and threatening to make the tears spill over, but I force myself to relax as I stand there. In a moment, he'll ask for volunteers and one of the massive academy students will take my place, just like they do every year. I won't be going to the Hunger Games.

Suddenly, I'm thankful I'm from District Four. In the outer districts, there's no one to volunteer for you.

My family have their gaze fixed on me. There is no way to describe the look on my parent's face. It is a combination of déjà vu and horror. My mother clings desperately to my father. He says nothing, but I can see from his face that he is broken, like a man whose been beaten. My brothers look calmer. Like me, they seem to be waiting for the volunteers. From the crowd below me, I lock eyes with Ivan. His face is screwed up like he's concentrating very hard on something. His dark eyes crinkle.

For a second, I catch a glimpse of myself on one of the large monitors and I'm taken aback. The young woman who stares down at the crowd looks confident, and arrogantly beautiful. I hardly recognize it as myself. There's not a trace of the fear I desperately feel on my face and it's surprising. Suddenly I am glad my mother made me roll my hair. It looks lovely on the screen.

"Now?" Devereux places a willowy hand on my shoulder "Are there any volunteers?"

I let out the breath I've been holding and wait for the female Careers to break into their usual fight for the spot, but there is only silence.

The girls in the very front. The ones who have trained and fought for years a spot in the Games, remain silent. As do all of the ones behind them. No one moves for the stage. No one speaks.

I begin to sweat, my heart racing emphatically. I look to Herja, the girl who Ginger thought would volunteer and see she's looking at the ground, purposefully away from me. I can't help but think that the odds really aren't in my favor. For the first time in 71 years, there are no female volunteers from District Four. Realization hits so hard, my knees shake and I threaten to fall over; I am the tribute. I am going to the Hunger Games.

My body feels like it's made of lead. Devereux looks confused, as do the mentors. The mayor is shooting daggers at the eighteen-year-old women standing before us, clearly disappointed that none of his star pupils are volunteering, and suddenly I remember why. I feel stupid for it not occurring to me earlier.

Last year really was a brutal year. Yulvan, the boy tribute from District 8 had been a particularly nasty tribute who not only relished in the killing, but the _torture_ of his victims. When it came to his female victims, he had made it clear during his interviews that they would wish they were dead. After all, there were _no rules_ in the arena. Most of the female tributes had steered clear of him after that. The District Four female tribute, Adolie, had accidently bumped into him during the Games and he made good on his promise. That's why no females from District Four were volunteering. Adolie's pain was fresh. Murdering other teenagers had no bare on these girls soul, but the possibility of being violated kept them firmly in their place. At least until the Capitol made a rule about it.

I snuck a peek at my family and saw realization setting in on their features. They were going to lose another child to the Hunger Games. I watched tears overcome my mother while Zale swore. They knew exactly as I did. I had no chance of winning. In my case, being reaped meant death.

Sure, I'm decent with a spear, and I know how to fish, but some of these kids are trained to be lethal. They're trained to _win._ I'll be lucky to survive the first night.

Still I know I must try. I can't let my family watch me give up. My goal will be to prolong my death as long as possible. Best case scenario; I go quick and painless.

Devereux recovers quickly and moves onto the boy's. He reaches into the reaping ball quickly, drawing the first name his fingers touches. He plucks it quickly and reads it off in a strong voice.

"Barnaby Lexington!"

A small fourteen-year-old boy who is even smaller than me leaps forward and takes his place on the stage. He's young. Too young to last very long.

Devereux calls for volunteers for the boys and almost immediately Kenrick Tulstead volunteers, taking Barnaby's place on the stage. Fear is not as rampant for the boys.

The crowd erupts into loud cheers and applause. The Mayor looks pleased that he isn't wholly embarrassed in front of all of Panem. Barnaby looks relieved as he scampers off the stage and back to his family. I scowl, unable to hide my fury at the fact that he so easily escaped going into the Arena.

Kenrick is a beast of a man. He easily tops six feet and is almost as wide. He's a fisherman too, just like my brothers and has seemed to have developed muscles on every available surface on his body. His curly blonde hair is cut short and his eyes are dark and menacing. I look so foolish standing beside him. He could kill me in an instant. He seems to know it too. His eyes linger on my body a little too long and he gives me a soft wink. It makes me shiver.

Devereux places a careful hand on both of our shoulders and turns us towards the crowd and the cameras.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the District Four Tributes for the 72nd annual Hunger Games! Epperly Steelstrom and Kenrick Tulstead!"

The crowd cheers again and I know that even though I can't see them, my family is stone silent. They are the only ones in those whole square grieving. Well, maybe Ivan is too. I can't see him anymore. I know Kenrick's parents are proud. They believe their son will win this thing, and he has a good chance of it. Career Tributes always do. I'm the one who has to worry about dying.

Peacekeepers usher us off the stage and into the Justice Department. I don't see Kenrick. I only see the door they guide me through, locking it behind them. I don't have to look through the peephole to know a Peacekeeper stands guard. They don't want their tributes escaping. In District Four it's not usually much of a problem, but I'm not a volunteer. That must worry them.

It feels like hours that I sit there in the tiny room on the velvet couch, waiting for my family to arrive, but I know it's only a few minutes. I curl my arms around my legs and try not cry. In a few days, I could be dead. I'll never return home. Never see the ocean that I love so much. I wish I had gone for that swim this morning. Who knows if I'll ever see water again.

I can only hope whatever Arena they have chosen for this year will have some. District Four tributes always do well if there's water. It's gives us an upper hand. I'll last longer if there's water so I hope for it.

When the door opens for the first time, it's my parents and Zale. My mother is so overcome with tears she can't speak. She only clutches me close burying her face in my hair as she weeps for her only daughter. My father squeezes my hand and tells me just how much he loves me. There are tears in his eyes and that almost sets me over the edge but I refuse to cry. It would hurt them too much. My mother has taken to a soft moan and my father has to drag her from the room when they have to leave. Tucker, Lennox and Byron come in next. Tucker and Lennox are unsure of what to say after they tell me they love me. Byron is more direct.

"Look," he says seriously, grabbing my face under the chin to make sure I'm listening, "You're from District Four. That means you're already better off than some of the other tributes, okay? You can fish. You can swim. You make excellent nets. I don't care if you hide in a stream and set nets for the all of the tributes, you need to try and stay alive, Epperly. No giving up. Mom and Dad can't handle you dying. And neither can we." Byron has tears in his eyes.

It's like he can read my mind. He knows I have no confidence I can win, and now he's guilting me to try. I have no choice but to agree. I have to at least try.

"I love you guys," I say and pull my brothers into a tight hug. None of us want to break it, but I have other visitors and the peacekeepers pull my brothers from the room.

My next visitor is Ginger, whose very jumpy. She reminds me that this is a good thing. That maybe I can win and become one of the most admired people in the District, like Finnick. We both know she's lying just from the oddly perky quality her voice has taken up. She knows that if District Four has a winner this year, it will be Kenrick.

When Ginger leaves, Ivan comes in. He has been crying, that much I can see. His eyes are red and his lips puffy. The door barely closes before he slips his hand in my hair and pulls my lips to his. I can't help but think it's a little selfish.

This is my first kiss, which would probably surprise people here. I get looks from some of those boys in the district, but I usually ignore them. I knew Ivan liked me but I never thought he'd act on that interest. At least I hoped, to spare me the difficulty of having to explain to him I wasn't interested. Especially not now, when he knows I'm going to die.

I'm dying and his first instinct is to get his kiss in. The thought makes my mouth pull into a hard line when we part. Ivan is too frantic to notice. I don't say anything about it. I know it would be cruel to say anything now. He does care for me after all, and he is one of my closest friends. I choose not to ruin our last moment together.

"I can't believe no one volunteered for you," he whispers, our foreheads still pressed together. "I thought for certain someone would."

My eyes slip closed. I thought someone would too. Even now, I hope senselessly. I hope for a way to escape the Games, even though I know there isn't one.

My voice is barely above a whisper. "I'm going to die, Ivan."

"No," Ivan's voice is hard. "You're not. We've watched these Games for years. We know how they work. Find a weapon, water and food. That's all you need. Don't make allies unless you're a hundred percent sure you can trust them, and even then, I'd be wary."

"What about the Career pack?" I ask.

I know I didn't volunteer but I'm still from District Four. I'm a career tribute. An invitation to that exclusive pack is automatically offered to me. Even as I ask, I know I don't like the idea. Wilder joined the career pack and those people ended up being the very same tributes who beheaded him.

Ivan is shaking his head before I've even finished the question. "Don't. Don't join them. It won't offer you much. You'd be the smallest one in the pack. They'll kill you the moment it's gets down to eight. You'll do better on your own."

His words make sense but fill me with a new kind of terror. As much as the Career pack terrifies me, being alone is almost as scary. Ivan gives me a sad look and opens his mouth to say something else but closes it instead.

The Peacekeepers come back to the door and escort him out. Ivan was my last guest. The Peacekeepers pull me from the room and lead me out of the Justice Building. A sleek black car waits at the front of the building. Devereux and Kenrick are already inside when I slip into it. Devereux offers me a smile and I try my best to return it as the car moves forward. I can feel Kenrick watching me on my left and I want to ignore him. He speaks before I can turn away.

"You lucked out, huh?" Kenrick jokes, stretching one of his giant hands in front of him, "no volunteers to challenge you. You must be thrilled."

Of course. I'm from District Four. I should be thrilled right now. Ready to viciously murder other children for the glimmer of a life with riches. My eyes widen in disbelief and I shake my head furiously. "Not really."

Kenrick frowns. "You don't want to go to the Games?" He looks genuinely confused.

"Nope." I make sure to stress the P, making a little popping noise with my mouth. I hope he confuses it for arrogance and drops the subject. It seems to work.

Devereux fills the silence before Kenrick can ask anything else. He goes on and on about what the rest of our day will be like. He talks up until we get to the train station, where a horde of photographers waits, snapping pictures of us. They know our names and shout them as they take our pictures. Most of them scream my name, and Kenrick seems to notice. He poses us at the door to the train, our arms pressing against one another. I know the photos will look ridiculous. He's almost twice my height and weight. These photos alone would make me bet against me. This is clearly why he has done it.

Devereux shows us to our suites. Mine is larger than my entire house in District Four; and decorated lavishly. We have several hours until dinner and Devereux tells us to do whatever we like as long as were in the dinner car by seven.

I spend most of my time buried underneath the heavy bed covers, trying to hide myself from everything that's surrounding me. There's only a few nights until the Games begin. Each moment I have now is precious and I know I should be trying to make the most of what remains of my life, but I'm far too emotionally exhausted to do anything but lay across and the bed and think.

I can't shake the look of my parents from my mind. They were so defeated. The grief of losing another child had already sunken in. My brothers were stronger; they had to be for our parents. Except Byron, he was so desperate for me to try, even though he must know how futile that is. I hope he and Ivan will be able to find comfort together after my death.

By the time seven comes around, my lips and eyes are both puffy from the tears that managed to slip through, making both look even fuller than usual. I do my best to counteract it by splashing my face with warm water but it's not much use. Everyone at dinner will know I've been crying.

The Capitol servants stare at me as I make my way to the dinner car. I try to ignore their looks but they linger, trying to catch a long look at the tribute. Better look now, I think. I won't be around much longer…

When the doors slide open to the car, I realize I'm the last one to arrive. Devereux, Kenrick, Mags and Finnick are all standing beside the table, chatting quickly.

"Oh excellent," Devereux chirps, "Epperly's arrived."

Finnick's eyes dart up to meet mine immediately and a smile stretches lazily across his teeth. I've never been this close to him before. Every time I've ever seen him, it was at a reaping.

I know now why so many women are infatuated with him. He really is something to look at. He mirrors my stares. His eyes drift over my face, my hair and my body. I see the look forming in his eyes. I know exactly what he's seeing. Finnick is arrogant. He will use my beauty to my advantage. Immediately I know this will be my strategy in the arena. I won't have a choice. I'll be painted as the good-looking tribute and it will be the focus of everything; my interview, my training. There will be no room to develop any _useful_ skill.

"Yes," Finnick purrs coming to stand in front of me, "I can definitely work with this."

He picks up a strand of my hair between his fingers and grins., "We match." His hair and mine are identical bronze colors and this seems to please him. He motions for me to twirl and I plant my feet, unmoving. I'm already sick of him. I know it's my fault; that I'm angry and upset I'm here and I'm taking it out on him, but I can hardly stop myself.

"No." I snap. "I'm not here for your entertainment, _Finnick_." I say his name harshly, making it sound like a dirty word. I hear Devereux sigh beside me.

Finnick raises a cocky brow at me. "Oh, you don't think so?" he chuckles and gives me a tiny shake of his head, "Sweetheart, you're here for the Capitol's enjoyment. If you think I'm the worst thing you're going to face here you've got another thing coming."

He plucks a strawberry off of the table beside him and plops it into his mouth. "If I were you, I'd be thrilled. Being beautiful is an asset in this thing. How else do you think I did so well? Think of it as a leg up. I can work with beautiful. You play it the way I tell you, and you'll have sponsors tripping over themselves to help you in the arena."

I consider the idea. Clearly Finnick has some idea of what he's talking about. He was a good fighter but everyone knows that it was his cherubic face that garnered all of his exuberant gifts in the arena. If he's right, then I might be able to last longer in the Games. To prolong the death, I know my parents are dreading.

"So, what, you're _her_ mentor now?" Kenrick demands. He looks indignant and is giving me a nasty look. I guess I understand. We may come from the same district but at the end of the day, we are each other's competition. He wants the best mentor and is furious he seems to have chosen me. His mouth is pulled into a hard line as his stare turns to Finnick. I can see his face growing red with anger.

"How is _that_ fair?" he presses. "You're the good mentor. You make tributes win. And you just decide I get the old bag?"

Mags looks down at the floor and I have to resist the urge to kick Kenrick in the shins. Mags is a kind woman; I've run into her in the District many times over the last few years and she was always extremely polite. Sure, she's on the older side, but she's still a victor. Nothing to turn your nose up at. But Kenrick's small minded and he wants the flashy mentor, Finnick.

I open my mouth to offer to take Mags but Finnick holds his hand up to me and stares Kenrick dead in the eyes, his face hardening.

"You," Finnick snaps at him viciously, "are a _tribute_. You don't make any decisions around here. If you looked like _her,_ " he points to me, "then I'd be your mentor. With the way you look, I'd be glad you even have someone as good as Mags."

Kenrick's face spreads red as embarrassment washes over his features. I feel my own ears start to warm too and I avoid looking at him. Finnick doesn't say anything else and sits down at the table. The rest of us join him silently and the others begin serving themselves. In front of us is a massive collection of food, and I recognize none of it. Carefully I lift the lids of trays and peer inside at the strange meats and vegetables I have no name for. I don't see a single piece of seafood anywhere on the table, odd considering this train is transporting to tributes from the fishing District. Beside me, Kenrick seems to be doing the same, eyeing the food unsurely. Devereux is piling food onto his plate without hesitation, so I follow. I try some of the meats and stews and find that they're actually pretty tasty. I find one of the soups has scallops in it and quickly pour several spoonsful of it onto on my plate and slide it to Kenrick. He may not like me, but it seems wrong to deny him food that comes from home.

"Thanks," he mutters spooning out as many scallops as he can. He looks grateful and I hope it may have eased some of the tension between us.

Finnick turns to Devereux. "Perhaps you could speak with the cooks? Two tributes from the fishing district could probably use more seafood at their mealtimes."

Devereux nods, "Of course. I don't know what they were thinking. I'll tell them to add some at once. We can do shrimp and cod. Oh and of course salmon….."

He drones on for a few minutes while Finnick stared me down from across the table. He seems intent on something and finally he slams his hands down on the table.

"Of course!" he says loudly. "Wilder Steelstrom! That's why you look so familiar. I can't believe I didn't remember before. Your brother was in the Games too!"

I drop my fork so loudly on the china in front of me that a horrible clattering sound echoes through the dinner car. Devereux and Kenrick both exchange a quick look and Mags blinks. They either hadn't known about Wilder, or had forgotten like Finnick had. My eyes darken and I can feel my gaze turn murderous as I look to my mentor.

"Yes, and?" I press, my voice growing angrier, "you honestly think that's something I'd want to talk about?"

I recoil from how venomous my tone sounds. Normally I'm a pleasant person, but being reaped had made my hostile. A hostility I'm now taking out on everyone in the train.

Finnick rolls his eyes at me. "You might not want too, but that's all the Capitol is going to be talking about. Well that and how you look." He wipes his mouth with a clean napkin. "Cesar will definitely ask you about it at your interview."

"He'll bring up my dead brother on national television?" I whisper. Somehow the thought seems too grotesque to fathom. I can barely talk about Wilder in front of my family or my friends. How would I talk about him in front of all of Panem?

Finnick lets out a curt little laugh. "Sweetheart, I wouldn't be surprised if they showed _footage_ from his games."

My mouth pops open into a little o and Finnick sighs, "Welcome to the Hunger Games, Epperly."

We finish dinner quietly and then retreat to a different room to watch the recaps of all of the reapings. I sit squished between Finnick and Kenrick, who has been considerably warmer to me since hearing about my brother. I'm grateful for that. I already have twenty-two other tributes who want me dead. I don't need Kenrick hating me too.  
Watching the reapings is more difficult than I imagined. Seeing our competitors on television makes my stomach knot. Some of these people we will kill, one of them will kill us. I try not to think about it. While we watch, Finnick and Devereux make little comments about the Districts and their tributes. Some are helpful, some make me more nervous. District One and Two's tributes are both volunteers; a strong blonde man and a viciously pretty girl with dark red hair from One. A boulder of a man and a tall dark-haired girl from Two. District Three's tributes are forgettable. District Four makes my skin crawl. I can't watch our reaping. Watching myself climb onto the stage beside Kenrick makes it feel too real.

District Five and Six's tributes are both scrawny. The girl from six is rail-thin. Her skin looks far too loose for a fifteen-year-old girl. I remember my father telling me once that District Six has a morphling addiction problem and wonder if this tribute is an addict. If so, her time in the arena will not be easy.

District Seven reaps a twelve-year-old girl and the crowd sighs. She's a tiny little thing with hair cut as short as a boy's and delicate limbs. My heart aches for her. She won't last long. I can only hope she goes quickly. The boy that's reaped beside her is seventeen. His hair is dark and styled and his eyes are as green as mine are blue. His face is well-proportioned and I find it hard to look away from his face. He's quite attractive. The sponsors will be all over him.

They aren't many more memorable tributes after District Seven. One sixteen-year-old girl from Eight has long gray hair, which is curious if nothing else. The boy From District Nine only had one arm. Both Tributes from Elven and Twelve looked starved.

When the reapings are over, Kenrick and I both retreat to our rooms. Devereux assumes we're exhausted from the day, but in reality, I don't think either of us can stand being around other people after those reapings. Knowing we have to kill people is one thing. Looking into their eyes is another.

I shower in scalding water that feels it's burning my skin from my bones. I don't stay in long. The water here smells different from home. It lacks the salty smell that so permanently floats around the buildings in District Four. Still, having wet hair makes me feel better as I crawl into bed. It feels familiar, and even that small gesture keeps me from breaking down into tears. I've always loved water; swimming, fishing, it never mattered. If I was in the water, I felt good.

Suddenly I have a thought that makes me sit straight up. If the arena has water, I would thrive. No not just thrive, I could be a threat. Of course, that would mean Kenrick would be too, but someone else might take him out first. I'm not as useless as I've been thinking. If that arena has water, I have a chance. No matter how small it is, I cling to it. The alternative is too depressing. I dream of the oceans of home and hope some small part of them is recreated in the arena.


	3. The Stylist

I can't tell what's pajamas and what's clothes in my dresser. The clothes are too similar to one another and so different from the denim and cotton we wear at home. After much deliberation, I settle on a pair of brown flowy pants and a crème colored t-shirt. The material is thick and too heavy to be worn anywhere with much sun, making me wonder how cold the capitol is. I've never experienced a day colder than 75 degrees back home. District Four is covered almost entirely by a pounding sun. I've heard the Capitol only has sun in the summer. That would explain Devereux's pallid, silvery complexion. I shiver at the thought of being cold that often. At least I won't be there very long. Hopefully the arena will be sunny and warm. I find myself wishing for a lot in the arena and the thought isn't comforting.

My hair no longer sits pretty and full like it did on reaping day. The shower washed away the perfect waves my mother's roller gave it, and now hangs naturally down my back, boring as ever. I decide not to deal with it and twist it into a bun on the top of my head.

When I head for the meal car for breakfast, a blonde capitol attendant shakes his head and leads me to a different car. This one looks like a sitting room. There's several squishy red couches and an entire wall of books and trinkets. Someone has shoved an ill-fitting dinner table into the middle of the room and laden it down with a Buffett of delicious foods. Finnick and Devereux sit at the table, talking quietly and sipping from mugs. Finnick gives my hair a disapproving look when I join.

"Where are Kenrick and Mags?" I ask, taking the seat across from them.

Finnick plucks a pastry off of the serving tray in front of him. "You and Kenrick will be spending your time outside of training apart from now on."

Separate training? I wonder if this was Kenrick's idea or Finnick's. If it was Kenrick's he must think I'm at least somewhat of a threat. Otherwise he'd have no problem with me being around. If it's Finnick's, Kenrick will only dislike me more.

"And why's that?" I ask.

Finnick raises an eyebrow. "I didn't get the impression you particularly liked your District partner." He shrugs, "Not that it isn't mutual. He certainly doesn't like the attention _I'm_ giving you."

So, it was Finnick's idea, then. It must be some part of the master plan he has for me. I still can't understand why Finnick would have chosen me as his mentee over Kenrick. He can't honestly believe I have any chance of doing better than him. It must be because he wants to represent the attractive tribute. How ridiculous.

"Thank you for _that_ , by the way." I tell him sarcastically. "I didn't really need another enemy before I even entered the arena."

"Right because you two were going to go skipping off into the Games holding hands if it weren't for me?" Finnick snorts. "I wouldn't worry too much about Kenrick if I were you, Darling. You'll both be in the Career pack. That's as much an allegiance as you two will have."

The Career pack. The idea makes my bones stiffen and feel heavy. I remember Ivan's words from his goodbye, his plead. _Don't join them._

"I don't want to join the Career Pack," I say quickly. Better to make myself clear now before we start making any plans. Finnick seems to have a lot of them.

Devereux looks appalled. "What? That's ridiculous. Of course you do."

Finnick gives me a strange, confused expression. "The winner usually comes out of that alliance. It would be stupid not too."

All I can think of is Wilder. He joined the Career Pack, and those tributes ended up being the same ones who murdered him. I snort, some alliance.

"I don't trust Career Tributes," I remind Finnick. "They'll kill me at the first opportunity. I'd do better hiding out somewhere by myself. I'll last longer like that."

"But _you are_ a Career Tribute," Devereux reminds me.

"But I didn't _volunteer,_ " I clarify. "I'm not strong like the usual careers. I'm weak. I don't even want to be in the Games. They probably won't even want me in their alliance."

"They'll want you," Devereux assures me, misreading my defiance.

Finnick lazily dunks one of his rolls into a large puddle of fruit topping on his plate. He takes his time covering it in the red jam before he looks up at me again.

"Whether or not you trust the other Career Tributes isn't the point," he says. "You can't trust anyone in the Games. The point is that the Careers have all the weapons and the food from the cornucopia. Staying with them will keep you alive for a little while."

" _A little while?_ How comforting."

Finnick's eyes harden. "Look. My job is to keep you alive. Staying with the Careers gives you the best chance. Swallow your pride and stick with them for a couple days. Rest up, eat. When you start to feel the alliance dissolving, then leave in the middle of the night. But you're staying with them, at least in the beginning. If you want to survive, you have to act like a Career Tribute."

"Win?" My voice cracks as I repeat his words. They sound so ridiculous it hurts. "You know I can't win."

The best I can do is survive, for as long as possible. Finnick must know that.

"Do I?" he asks quickly. "You seem to forget that winning the Hunger Games isn't about how lethal someone is with a sword. There are Career Tributes every year, people bigger and stronger than you, who _lose._ To win this thing, you need three things; luck, a skill, and good sponsors. The first one you can't control, the second one's all on you, and with a face like yours I can help you get the third. I can help you try and survive, but you need to listen to me. Do what I say. I've already played this game, Darling. And guess what? _I won._ "

Finnick gives me a condescending look and finishes his roll, licking each one of his fingers with a smile, never breaking his eye contact with me. I decide he's arrogant, and I hate him, but I also know he's right. If I want to last in the Games, or even…win. I have to start listening to Finnick.

"Fine."

"Now was that so hard to say?" he chuckles.

Devereux gives him look and then turns to me. "You're District Partner spent an hour this morning telling Mags about that he's the best at the Academy in knife throwing" he says, "So if you have any talents you're hiding, now is the time to share them with Finnick."

"You're going to scare her," Finnick says taking a sip from his mug. I recognize the smell immediately as tea. We had it once in one of our parcels the year that Annie Cresta won her games. Even from across the table I can smell it perfectly and fetch a cupful for myself. It warms my chest and calms me a little.

"I'm not scared," I tell Finnick, "and I'm not really harboring any special skills that I know of. I'm from Four, so you know I can swim. I'm good with nets. Pretty good with a spear."

"How good is _pretty good_?"

"I can kill fish with my eyes closed, but I've never tried throwing more than twenty or so feet."

I never had any reason to. Fish aren't that far away and I never imagined I'd be using a spear on a _human_.

Finnick nods his head. "That's decent. It's easy enough to make a spear if they don't have one, but they usually do. They'll be a stream or lake at the bare minimum. So, if there's fish, you'll be able to eat, at least. I won't have to worry about you starving, which is more than I can say for some of the other District's tributes."

"No, you just have to worry about someone burying an ax in my head," I reply miserably.

Devereux gives me a dark look, "Do you think that's helping, Epperly?"

"Sorry."

I stop talking for a while and enjoy some of the food that has been laid out for breakfast. Each dish is amazingly crafted and made of rich, hearty food. I decide to eat as much as I can. I don't have as high of hopes as Finnick does about the possibility of fish in the arena and decide it wouldn't be bad to be familiar with the flavors of other foods in case I come across them in the arena. District Four lives exclusively off of seafood. The other tributes have a leg up in that they're more familiar with other kinds. This morning I try and memorize the flavor of all the different birds and vegetables.

We arrive in the Capitol by mid-morning. The citizens screech and cheer our names as we move from the train to the remake center. I only see Kenrick for a moment before Finnick and Devereux drag me to the Prep team who would be working on me. Twin sisters, Gredil and Moran. They're relatively tame for Capitol citizens. Their long blonde hair looks natural and clean, their skin a normal peachy color. The only thing that reminds me they're from the Capitol is their matching bright-pink eyes, clearly genetically enhanced. It always makes them look like they're staring into my soul. I avoid looking them in the eyes.

The spend a few hours fawning over me. They tell me how beautiful I looked at the reaping as they pluck stray eyebrow hairs from my face with a tiny silver instrument. I grit my teeth as they do it, thinking how barbaric an idea it is, removing pieces of my eyebrows to _shape them._ They remove all of the body hair from me too, and go on and on about how lucky I am to be from a warm district. They tell me the tributes from the colder districts are much hairier.

They spend at least an hour on my hair, running different lotions and balms into it until it falls perfectly down my back in waves they've assured me will last weeks. They cut off at least three inches of salt damaged hair and I'm surprised to find it only barely reaches my waist now. Finnick has given them express orders to not change the color of my hair and they don't.

When they finally bring me to my stylist, I'm wary. I wear only a thin silk robe and sit on a table in an empty room. I've seen some of the garish stylists in the Games and I can only hope mine is somewhat normal and not the kind to want to surgically alter me in anyway. Last year the District Four tribute had fish scales inlaid into his arm and it looked freakish.

When the door does open, my stylist enters swiftly. She takes me aback instantly. The woman in front of me is tall, probably taller than Finnick and very thin. She is the picture of a Capitol citizen, but somehow, she appears less terrifying. Despite the ridiculousness of her appearance, I find her strangely beautiful.

Her hair is bright fuchsia. One side is shaved and the other trails down past her waist. Her eyelashes are clearly altered and stick out a foot away her eyes on either side. Somehow, I manage to look past these things and notice her mouth is unaltered. All day I've seen the unnatural pout of surgically filled lips and my stylists' are a welcome sight. I notice she has freckles across her nose and it reminds me of my mother. I don't cringe away when she takes my hand.

"You're Epperly?" she asks. Her voice is very high, but strong. When I nod back at her she beams.

"I'm Merrill." She exclaims. "Can I just say? I've never been so excited to work on a tribute before. Finnick told me you were beautiful, but wow, he wasn't joking. I've been her twelve years and you're the first one I think I can make _perfect."_

I'm not sure how to respond to her immediately. The idea of anyone looking forward to anything having to do with the Games makes my stomach knot, but Merrill seems like a nice person. She is trying to help me. I decide not to hold her Capitol status against her.

"Thank you, Merrill," I say quickly, "I'll take any help I can get."

She claps her tiny hands together and leads me to the other side of the room where a lunch spread has been assembled. We sit together and cover our plates in an assortment of food. I'm pleased to see there's shrimp and pile them on my plate. We make small talk while we eat. Merrill chats happily about her life in the Capitol and asks me questions about my District and friends back home.

"So," Merrill says after a few minutes, putting down her fork, "You didn't volunteer."

I knew this would come up. I'm an anomaly after all. District Four tributes are always volunteers. I should have known people will be curious.

I can feel tears stinging in my eyes and this time I don't stop them. I don't worry about looking weak in front of Merrill the way I do Kenrick. I shake my head as one of the tears glides down my cheek. "No. I didn't want to be in the Games." Another tear slides down my cheek before I have time to wipe the first.

Merrill reaches out to touch my shoulder. "I'm sorry. Finnick told me about what happened to your brother. That's got to be hard for you and for my family."

That sends more tears down face and I nod as I wipe them. "Did you know him?" I ask her, "Wilder Steelstrom?"

Merrill shakes her head. "I wasn't his stylist if that's what you mean. I worked for District Seven back then, but I do remember him. He was a nice young man. We all wanted him to win. His death, It was…very… _hard_ _to watch._ "

I wrap my arms around my legs and pull them closer to me. "I don't want my family to watch me die like that too."

Merrill stands, shaking her head furiously. "They won't. They're going to watch you _win_. Finnick and I are going to help you, Epperly. You'll have just as good odds as anyone else when were done."

"Odds haven't really in my favor lately," I reminded her.

She grins. "That's about to change."


	4. The Tribute Parade

"Where's Kenrick?" I ask, wrapping my arms around my chest in a desperate attempt to warm myself. The room is cold and I try to keep from shivering. A feat considering how much of my skin is currently exposed.

"Finnick and Mags are bringing him down now," Merrill tells me, swatting my arms away from my body, "and do not ruin my masterpiece. This took me hours."

"Well your masterpiece is freezing."

Merrill rolls her eyes and her eyelashes almost stick together. "Suck it up, District Four. You might have colder nights in the arena."

"I won't be practically naked in the arena, though," I remind her.

"That you know of," Merrill chuckles. Her mouth turns into a wide grin and she only stops when she sees my expression. "I was kidding, Epperly. And anyway, I'd hope you're dressed scantily. That at least would mean the arena is warm…."

Merrill prattles on about the years of the Games she's seen with warm climate sand how she's always preferred them, while I stare around at our designated floor of the Remake center. I'm dressed and ready for the Opening Ceremony, waiting on Finnick and Kenrick. I refuse to go to the bottom floor with the chariots without them, especially dressed like this.

It's taking all of my will to trust Merrill. Especially after how she's styled me for this ceremony. I know I must like her because I'm wearing this outfit.

District Four's costumes are usually scanty, but this ensemble takes it to a whole new level. My breasts are covered only by palm sized blue sea shells with a matching blue pair of skin tight shorts. A dress of sheer netting is draped over me but doesn't conceal any of my skin, leaving me practically naked.

Merrill kept my hair voluminous and pin straight. A large spiked headdress sits on the top of my head, adorned with seashells and pearls. The thing itself weights almost ten pounds and makes it hard to hold my head upright. Something about the shape of it looks familiar, but I can't quite place it. My face has no makeup beside lipstick, and for that I'm grateful. It almost makes up for the fact that most of my body has been sprayed with sparkling green and blue glitter.

It's hard to not feel as though I'm on display. No one has ever seen this much of me, and now all of Panem will. My strategy for winning sponsors has never been clearer.

"I'm assuming Finnick helped you create this look, huh?" I asked Merrill grumpily.

She looks guilty. "He may have given me some suggestions, and limited the amount of skin I was allowed to cover."

"Of course, he did." I sigh.

"He really is trying to help," Merrill says quickly, "He knows this will work. It did for him. If you can't make people fear you, you have to make them _want_ you."

I have a witty retort all planned out but I don't get a chance to use it. The doors open and Finnick, Mags, Devereux and Kenrick file into the room with a green-haired man I can only assume is Kenrick's stylist.

Kenrick, like me, is barely covered. He's shirtless, wearing similar shorts and also covered in netting and glitter. On his head, he too wears the ornate Sea-themed headdress. It looks just as ostentatious on him as it does me. Now I realize why the shape looks so familiar. Merrill copied the design of the victor's crown and made it larger. She's believes one of us can win. She's not even subtle about it.

"Wow," Kenrick comes to stand beside me and looks at me appreciatively. "You look nice."

"So do you," I tell him, glad we seem to be on good terms beside our separate coaching. "Too bad we're going to freeze out there."

Kenrick gives me a terrifying smile. "I find a couple ways to keep you warm." His eyes run up and down my costume again in a slow, deliberate way that makes me want to rip Finnick's jacket off his shoulders and cover myself up. I smile at him anyway, refusing to cause any tension among my district partner. So far, he's the only one not anxiously awaiting to murder me.

Devereux ushers all of us into the elevator and we slowly chug down to the first floor. I'm unprepared for what waits for us. Twelve chariots and horses are lined up, ready to go in District Order. Each of the tributes, their mentors and stylists stand gathered around them. They look to us when we enter. This is the first time any of us have seen the other and I realize how terrifying it is to walk past people who want to kill us.

Devereux leads us to our chariot and I can feel the stares of the other tributes burning into the back of my skull. We're wearing the least clothing of them all and they seem to notice. Their stares are envious. Surely, a lot of attention will be on us. Then I realize their eyes are darting from Finnick to me, the same look over and over again. I sigh realizing we must look related to them. The same bronze hair, full lips and District Four tan; we could be siblings. Finnick even resembles some of my brothers. It's a bit ironic actually, I did have a brother in the games, but he wasn't a victor.

We pass the outer districts first and see no costumes out of the ordinary; coal miners, farmers, cows. All of the tributes from those districts look so skinny. Each one of them is skin and bones. Worlds apart from Kenrick and I. I was one of the smallest girls in my class at home, but it's impossible to deny the subtle curves on me that hunger and starvation has stolen from these tributes. They're already at a disadvantage.

When we pass District Seven's chariot I see the little twelve-year-old girl dressed as a tree branch and I want to sigh. She's so _small_. Beside her is her district partner, the dark-haired boy I saw at the reaping. He's just as enchanting as he was on television, but in person I notice he looks much friendlier. He chats happily with the little tree-branch girl. The harsh look he carried at the reaping is long gone. It makes sense; most of us are depressed about being here.

He catches me watching him and tilts his head, his expression curious. I look away quickly, desperate not to make an enemy before the arena. He probably will mistake my look for something more sinister. Fights always break out before the Games and I refuse to be in one of them. His gaze keeps following me as I pass.

We stop at the District Four chariot and get a good look at the other Career tributes. District Two is wearing some kind of white armored outfits that look like a modified version of peacekeepers uniforms. Both of the tributes are watching Kenrick and I, staring with envious eyes. I look to District One where the long- blonde haired boy and red-headed girl are wearing skin tight gold bodysuits littered with gemstones.

The red-haired girl is just as pretty and terrifying as I thought. She narrows her eyes at us and my gaze drifts to her mentor. I know her from somewhere. She's older than Finnick, in her mid-twenties with perfectly quaffed blonde hair. It takes me only a second to realize why she looks so familiar and a rage rips through my body.

 _Neela._

One of District One's mentors is the tribute who tortured and murdered my brother. Wilder's face is the only one I see when I head for her. My blood is boiling.

Killing is a part of the Games, I know that. No one wins without killing, but Neela didn't just kill Wilder; she took part in his torture. My jaw clenches as I imagine ripping her throat out. She makes eye contact with me and stares strangely at the tribute heading for her. She cocks an eyebrow and I lose it. I'm only feet from her when I feel Finnick's arms lock around my waist and yank me backward.

"Don't even think about it, Epperly," he whispers against my hair, his grip iron-tight.

"Do you know who _that_ is?" I demand as he drags me backwards toward the chariot. All of the other tributes and mentors are watching us now. No one knows what is happening as Finnick pushes me back into the chariot beside Kenrick. Devereux, Mags and Merrill circle around us to keep me from moving, and the other tributes lose interest turning back to their own mentors. Only Neela and her tributes seem to still be watching me.

"I know exactly who that is," Finnick says darkly, "doesn't change the fact that you can't do anything about it."

"She killed my brother," I whisper venomously.

Finnick sighs. "Doesn't matter. You even go near her and the Capitol will take it out on you in the arena. They _love_ their victors here."

I can feel my anger coursing through my veins again and I don't take my eyes off of Neela. Her tributes are still staring back and me and I watch as she whispers something to the red-headed girl. They both laugh and it only makes me want to murder them both.

"Don't let her distract you," Merrill says. She's standing on the edge of my chariot now, adjusting my headdress one more time. "You need to focus. Both of you, on making the crowd notice you."

"And love you," Finnick adds.

Kenrick grins and stretches a heavily muscled arm "I can do that."

I nod my head, trying to get back into the right mindset. I'm here for a reason. I need to focus. This is the first time the people of the capitol had seen any of us since the reaping. This is where the sponsors begin to make their decisions. I try to remember how happy I used to feel at home in my district and plaster a wide, toothy smile as the chariots begin to move.

"Now _that's_ more like it," I hear Finnick shout as we pull away from him.

District One and Two's chariots have just entered the city circle and the echoing scream of the capitol citizens is almost deafening. The people are cheering, shouting the names of the tributes as they exit. I look to Kenrick just before our chariot steps out. His face is focused, staring ahead at the awaiting crowds. His eyes have softened to make him look sultry and more attractive and he's flexing. I realize Kenrick is trying. He is trying to win sponsors. Kenrick wants to _win_.

This is what I need to do if I want any chance. I need to make those people out there love me. I need them to see whatever it is Finnick sees. Just as our chariot makes its way through the entrance, I puff out my chest, flip my hair and beam at the crowds of people.

The reaction is instantaneous and I can no longer think over the roars of people screaming our names. They throw gifts, some of them cry. We are clearly some of the favorites and the idea makes me grin so wildly my cheeks hurt. To have any chance at winning the Hunger Games, the capitol needs to love you; and it seems they do.

I steal one look at the hanging monitors as we move down the city circle. They cling to us. Kenrick and I look flawless on the screens. The glitter shins off of our tanned bodies and the headdresses really do resemble victor's crowns. I can't help but think we look imposing. We look like a threat. Eventually the camera's peel away from us and turn to the other tributes as the chariots slow.

The whole thing seems to go by much quicker than I thought. When all of the chariots stop, the president gives the same short speech he does every year. I'm very aware of how often the camera cuts to us, and every time it does I flirt with the audience, batting my eyelashes and winking. The crowd gives a little cheer every time I do. It makes my stomach turn a little to play this fake game, but I do it anyway. It's worth it if it keeps me alive. If the Capitol wants me to be the silly, pretty girl from District Four, that's exactly what I'll be. I'll deal with my demons in the arena.

The crowd cried when the chariots head back into the Remake center. I let out every breath I've been holding, the second our chariot is indoors. There's a new energy in the room now. The tributes seem more relaxed and simultaneously more dangerous. As I exit the chariot, Finnick is waiting for me with a proud grin.

"Where was that girl this whole time?" Finnick asks excitedly. "I can work with her. All that smiling and flirting with the audience, I almost didn't believe it was you. T _hat's_ how you do it."

I dramatically toss my hair over my shoulder and flutter my eyelashes at him and he points a finger at me. "You want a chance. You've got it."

"I figured I might as well start listening to you," I tell him, dragging the headpiece off of me head. I feel lighter the moment it's lifted.

Mags is whispering something to Kenrick now and even he looks pleased. The rest of the tributes have left their chariots too and are still lingering. Most cling to their mentors and stylists, except for a few.

District One and Two's tributes have clustered together a little ways from their mentor and look over at us with raised eyebrows and gesture for us to join them. The Career Pack has formed.

Kenrick heads right for them. I move to follow but Finnick grabs my arm holding them back.

"Remember," he hisses in my ear. "They need to like you. You're one of them. But they know you didn't volunteer, they think you're weak. Keep it that way. Don't show off, just be nice and simple. Got it?"

Right. I know I'm nothing like the lethal group of people assembled in front of me, but I know that Finnick believes this is how I survive. I can't question him.

I nod and catch up with Kenrick before he reaches them.

"Ready to meet our allies?" he jokes. I wonder if he realizes the seriousness.

Four pairs of eyes quickly size us up as we join the other Careers. Immediately I'm overwhelmed how big the boy from District Two is. He's taller than Kenrick and looks four sizes too large for the uniform he's wearing. Beside him, the female tribute has shoulder length black and onyx eyes. They look alike, just like Kenrick as I, and seem to be seventeen or eighteen. I wonder is everyone in District Two has the same dark hair and pallid complexions.

The boy from One is smaller than the one from Two, and younger too. Maybe sixteen? He's stocky like Kenrick, and his long blonde hair is pulled away from his face in a low ponytail. He hovers beside his District partner, the fierce looking girl I remember from the reaping. She has to be eighteen, because she looks twenty. Her dark red hair hangs in a curtain down her body, reflecting off her glimmering gold bodysuit. Her eyes narrow for a moment as she looks at me and then flashes a wide smile I know not to trust.

She reaches out to twist of piece of netting from my costume through her long, pale fingers.

"Your stylist is.. _creative_ " she says. From the way she says it, I immediately know that the girl from District One is not my friend. This is fake.

One thing I've learned from being around all of Ginger's fluff-headed town friends, is girls like this need to be the best. So I decide to give her exactly what she seems to be craving. I channel every ounce of enthusiasm I do with Ginger's friends.

"Yours is a genius" I gush. "Those bodysuits are to die for, and the gemstones? Gorgeous. You're lucky you're from the luxury district."

The words sound fake on my lips but they seem to have the desired effect on the redhead and her mouth stretches into a pompous grin and relaxes.

"They are something, aren't they?" she says, stroking a ruby the size of my palm that's gathered at her throat.

She shoves one of her tiny hands at mine to shake. "And appropriate. I'm Garnet."

A redheaded from the luxury district, and her name is Garnet? How creative. Somewhere I know my brother Byron is dying of laughter at the thought. I take her hand and shake it.

"I'm Epperly. This is Kenrick."

"The non-volunteer Career right?" Garnet asks, a trace of a laugh on her lips. She knows just like the others that I must be weaker than them. This is good. This is what Finnick wants.

I fake sigh, "Yeah well, things happen."

Garnet chuckles again and the tributes from District Two seem to join her. Good, let them all underestimate me.

"That's Fane," Garnet says pointing to her district partner. "And Rex and Audra from District Two."

Rex and Audra give me and Kenrick a cold smile and Rex immediately asks him a question about District Four's academy, and Fane joins in.

The other tributes are starting to leave with their mentors and as the pair of tributes from District 10, dressed respectively as cows, walk back, Audra snorts.

"Cows? That tribute girl is too skinny to be a cow."

Garnet grins. "A pig would have been better. She's ugly enough."

"She can't honestly believe she's going to get a single sponsor looking like that, can she?" Audra asks with an eye roll. "Sponsors want pretty tributes."

"Of course, you have to be good with a weapon too," Garnet adds quickly. "A pretty face won't do you much good if you're lying dead and bloody in the arena." She casts a very specific look at me. For a second I see a flair up of something in her eyes as she looks at me. It's pure fury. It only lingers for a moment before her face calms again.

"They must know," Garnet says shaking her head as the outer district tributes and their mentors pass, "that the winner is going to be one of us."

"Oh they know," Audra assures her. "That's why they look so terrified." They both break into quick laughter that I can't bring myself to join.

"Good thing we've got such good allies," I tell them, straining to keep my voice calm.

Garnets smiles. "Of course."

"Career's stick together," Audra adds menacingly.

I fake a smile and head back for Finnick and Merrill before my face can betray me and display every thought in my mind.

I can't trust anyone here. Least of all my allies.


	5. Tribute Training

We're staying in the Tribute Center now. Each District gets an entire floor to stay on with their mentors and stylists. I didn't look around much last night when we got here. I was too terrified from my conversation with the other Careers to do anything other than shower off the glitter and lie in bed.

Those tributes, Garnet and Audra, were nasty. I wouldn't trust them with anything, let alone my life. I have to remind myself over and over throughout the night that I don't have to stay with them the whole time. Finnick said a few days, a week at most. Just long enough to rest and eat, while the other tributes rip each other's heads off. I promise myself I'll leave well before the top eight, if I even make it that long. That's when things usually get testy with the Careers. After all, if we all live, that means only two tributes would stand in the way of us turning on one another. That's a risk I'm not willing to take. Outer districts are usually less savage when they kill. If I'm lucky, one of them will take me out. I don't want to die at the hands of a Career, and something tells me Garnet would be more than willing.

We only have one day to ourselves before training begins. I spend it alone, taking a long foaming bath in one of the luxurious tubs in the tribute center, and reading what few books have been left around. I lie in bed too and try to watch a little tv, though most of it is coverage of the Hunger Games and that's stresses me out more than it helps me. I spend hours writing letters to my family; my parents, my brothers and ones for Ginger and Ivan. I leave them sitting on the dresser until I grow the nerve to give them to Finnick to deliver. The letters are shorter than I would have liked. There's so much that I would want to tell them, so much I need for them to know when I'm dead, but words fail me.

Eventually I fall asleep, still in the clothes from the day before. It's a rough night. I dream I'm in Wilder's arena with him. We're both tributes, but instead of helping him, I take part in his torture. I put his head on the pike.

I wake up screaming. A Capitol attendant rushes in and tells me that Finnick and Devereux are waiting for me for breakfast. I'm still shaking after he leaves.  
The dream felt too real, and I know why. I'm siding with the Careers. The very kind of tribute who would have helped torture Wilder. I'm just as bad as them. Audra and Rex, Fane and Garnet, even Kenrick will kill people in that arena, probably viciously. Will I be able to side with _them_? Help, even? I shake my head, knowing I can't. I'll leave the alliance before that happens. I'll have to.

I don't bother changing, and head straight for the large dining room table in yesterday's clothes with my hair a mess. I know there must be red splotches all over my face from the crying but I don't care.

"Well don't you look pretty?" Finnick's says sarcastically as I take a seat.

"I had a rough night," I tell him rubbing nervously at my eyes. The table is covered in food and I take a hearty helping. Finnick watches disapprovingly as I eat messily and then shakes his head.

"Where's Kenrick?" I ask.

"Taking a shower," Finnick answers simply. "Something you might want to try and every now and then, Doll face."

I sigh and serve myself another helping of pancakes. I'm trying to enjoy as much of this food as I can before I die, so I scoop another helping of purple butter on top.

"You have training today at ten," Finnick reminds me.

I nod, unlikely to forget the thing I've been dreading since I was reaped. Training is practice for the arena and I'm terrified of what I'll see there.

"You're going to have to spend your time with Kenrick and the other Careers," Finnick says. "I know you won't like them, but tough. This about appearing to be one of them. They're going to show off down there, they always do. I don't want you to do that. Don't pick up a spear. You don't want them to know you're any good. Instead focus on picking up some new skills. Maybe throw a knife or two, ok?"

I groan but nod. I knew I'd have to spend time with the other careers in order to strengthen our alliance, but every ounce of my being doesn't want too. I don't trust any of them.

"And darling?" Finnick says with a smile, "I want you fluffy and useless, alright? You be the pretty princess of training practice."

I grin back at him. "I'll just act like you do and I should be fine."

Finnick rolls his eyes, "Do I need to remind you what happens if you don't take this seriously?"

I shake my head and he drops the conversation. I know I must play this part that Finnick has created for me. It's how I live, but it doesn't mean I like any part of it.

When I finish eating, Finnick sends me back to my room to change. Merrill has laid out a pair of tight light blue pants and a matching jacket. One of the twins from my Prep team, Moran, helps me get dressed and then puts my hair into a half-up braided style she assures me will keep it out of my face while I train.

When I come back to the dining room, Kenrick is waiting for me. He wears a tight white t-shirt and stretchy black pants.

Finnick and Mags lead us into the elevator and wish us good luck before we shoot down to the training center. It's nothing more than a Gymnasium, set up to accommodate different weapons and training stations. The other tributes are already there and standing away from one another. Some, like the District Seven tributes stand close to their district partners. I watch as the blue eye-d boy talks to his tiny companion, tree-branch girl.

He catches me looking at him again, and grins. I almost swear. He's definitely going to think I'm trying to start something now. Another enemy to worry about. Kenrick and I make our way to the Career Pack, and they greet us warmly. After all, we're allies now. The tributes from the other districts stare at our large group with mixed expressions; longing, envy, fear. Fear is the most common one. By now they've realized odds are one of us will be the one to kill them. Tree-branch girl quivers whenever she looks in our direction. The thought makes me want to slit my own wrists.

The woman in charge of training, Atala, introduces herself and explains how training will work. We will have two full days of training and are free to use our time as we wish in the gym. On the third day, we'll have private sessions where we show the Game makers our skills. When she dismisses us, the rest of the tributes fan out, but we don't. The Career pack sticks together; doing _every_ activity and training together. I do as Finnick says and don't touch a spear, instead I pay close attention to my allies and see what they can do.

Rex is a powerhouse, and can throw weights around like they're made of cotton. In hand to hand combat, he takes Garnet down in seconds and tosses Audra around like she's a rag doll.

Kenrick is the only one who gives him any sort of challenge. He's skilled in hand to hand fighting and possesses a dark gift for aim. He throw's knives and stars and never misses the target. When we practice, he shows me how to hit the target with knifes, but I still only hit the target every other time.

Audra's skill is with the bow and arrow. She's good too, hitting every dummy they have strung up across the training center. Of course, they're not moving, but from the menacing glint in her eyes, I have a feeling that she can hit moving targets too.

It's Garnet though, who's skill is most terrifying. The moment we make our way to weapons she heads straight for a mace and buries it into the back of one of the practice dummy's head. She moves so quickly and with so much accuracy it quiets even Atala.

I keep my head down, and move with the group every so often trying my hand with new weapons. I'm decent with a trident, but only because it's so similar to a spear. They have beautiful, heavy silver spears in the corner that I don't touch. I try throwing stars and fail miserably. I'm decent with throwing knives, and do really well with a thin machete that slightly resembles the knifes we use at home to cut our fishing nets.

Some of the other tributes try to show off their skills too. The boy from Ten is pretty decent with a sword. The girl from Three has incredible upper body strength and swings from the rope courses. The boy from District Seven, the one I've been watching, is scarily good with an Ax. He's swift, moving it like an extension of him. I watch him take the arm off of a practice dummy so quickly I almost miss it happen. I remember he's from District Seven, lumber, and his ease with the ax makes sense. He's probably been wielding one since he was old enough to carry it. Garnet and Kenrick give him such dirty looks that I worry for him. They're clearly marking him to take out in the arena.

At lunch, I'm forced into sitting with the other Careers which soon becomes a loud, rowdy affair. I only add to the conversation a little and hope they forget about me. They have the green seaweed bread from home and I eat it quietly, thinking of my family.

After lunch, we do hand to hand combat again. I go up against Kenrick and he has me down in two minutes. Garnet and I go next. We go back and forth for a few minutes until she hits me so hard in the jaw I see dark spots in the corner of my vision. We're not supposed to hit that hard in training, and from her expression I can see she's pleased. I pretend to be sore and sit out, but really, it's so I can get a few minutes away from her and the other careers.

I make my way over to the knot-tying station, the one I've been most looking forward to since getting here. It reminds me so much of home. The instructor is thrilled at my expert knowledge of fishing nets and knots, and claps happily when I master the knot that has traps other tributes in the air. He and I go over all of the basic hunting and trapping ones before he finally jokingly shows me how to make a noose. I try and remember that one more than I should. At the end of the day, it might be a good thing to know.

I'm so enjoying training on my own. I don't immediately go back and join the other Careers. Instead I head over to the edible plants station and watch as the grey-haired girl from District Eight passes the test with flying colors. She doesn't hesitate whatsoever and I struggle to understand how a girl from the textile district knows so much about plants. I try and memorize the one's she picked as poisonous and have to stay at the station for an hour before I'm confident I've learned what's not edible. I still won't be eating any unusual plants in the arena, but it's good to have some idea. When I head to the fishing hook station, I'm in heaven. I can make a fishing hook out of anything and the instructors thrilled when I make one out of a bobby pin I pluck from my hair.

"I might have to start insisting my stylist put those in my hair too if there that damned useful," a voice says behind me.

I spin around, immediately paranoid and find the blue-eyed boy from District Seven. My chest tightens, worrying that he's finally come to start whatever fight he thinks I initiated. He's tall and broader than I originally thought, and still remarkably good-looking. Finnick will have to fight his mentor for sponsors. He's looks at my homemade fish-hook with a mild curiosity.

"It's not quite as handy as an ax," I shrug, gesturing to the heavy wooden one that lies on the table behind him. The one he had been wielding earlier.

"I'd argue you're wrong," he says moving beside me to pick up one of the metal pieces, "a fishhook feeds you. An ax doesn't."

He fiddles with the small metal ring until he forces it into a misshapen hook that wouldn't catch a guppy. He frowns it.

"A fishhook doesn't exactly help you defend yourself though," I remind him.

He grins, "And again you're wrong." He moves quickly, and in half a second he has my fishhook between his fingers and an inch from my eye. One quick movement and I'll be blinded. The instructor gasps. My entire body tightens and he senses it, moving away from me in an instant.

"See," he places it down on the table again. "Anything can be lethal. Even if you don't expect it."

He looks at me and I instantly get the sense that he's see's through my façade, the one Finnick and I have created. Somehow, this tribute knows I'm hiding something.

"I'm Firth," he says quickly, extending a hand to me. The gesture feels strange considering we'll no doubt be killing one another in the arena but I shake it anyway.

"I'm Epperly," I tell him.

Firth nods, "I know who you are. I watched your reaping. It wasn't like the usual District Four ones."

I shake my head. "Not exactly." I can feel my expression falter, but I stop it before I show anything. The last thing I need is to look weak in front of a tribute who has already proven how dangerous he is.

I pick up his dull, useless fish hook. "You might want to learn how to make this one a little better if it's such a great weapon."

He grins at me, "Well then, let's see how it's done."

Training is exhausting. My mind and body are both weak with everything I'm trying desperately to learn in two days. Even more exhausting is pretending to be one of the Careers. Every minute I spend with them puts me more on edge.

I don't trust any of them, apart from maybe Kenrick. I'd much rather be training alone, or with tributes of my own choosing. I don't speak to Firth again after I show him how to make a proper fish hook, but I catch him watching me every so often. He only ever trains with his tiny district partner.

By the time the private training sessions come around, I'm nervous. The night before, Finnick and I discuss my skills and what I should show the Gamemakers. This private session is the only place before the arena that I'm allowed to appear capable and strong. There's no need to look silly or incompetent in there. In that room, I need to prove myself.

I walk down that morning with Kenrick. We sit in a room with the other tributes. Most of them avoid one another and stay silent. Firth makes quiet conversation with tree-branch girl and occasionally the District 10 girl, the one Audra called a pig, will say something to the girl from Nine that sits beside her. I watch as Fane, Garnet, Rex and Audra all get called and disappear behind the training door. The boys go first so I wish Kenrick good luck and wait for my name to be called.

When it does, I'm filled with nerves. It feels strange to be in the training center without the other tributes. It looks so imposing with the room of Gamemakers standing above me.

"Whenever you're ready," one of them says to me.

I know I only have fifteen minutes to impress them and the weight of it gets to me. I immediately set to work, ripping armfuls of the rope from the rack on the wall. I work quickly, feeling the rope scratching my fingers as I weave them together. Normally the scratch of rope feels like feathers to my skin, after how many times I've done it at home, but a week in the Capitol makes it feel scratchy on my skin.

It takes me five minutes to string the three traps across the room and shove the practice dummies at them. I grin as immediately each of the dummies get trapped in the net and suspended in the air. I look up and only see one or two Gamemakers watching, the rest are eating and talking amongst themselves. After watching the likes of Garnet and Kenrick, I must seem terribly boring in comparison. I need to step it up.

I cross the room and reach the weapons cart. For the first time, I reach for the Spear. It's heavier and nicer than the ones my brothers have at home, but it still feels right in my hand.

I take one of the long machetes too and string it on my hip. As I approach the three suspended dummies, I take the machete and throw it at the first one. It sticks and buries itself in the dummy's chest.

I shove the spear through the next in one quick, effortless motion. It pierces exactly where it's heart would be with stunning accuracy. I smile. For the last one I throw the spear as hard as I can and watch as it rips through the dummy's head, splitting it in half.

It feels incredibly good to work with spears again, and I'm better than I remembered. It's no different from spearing the fish if I don't think too much about it. I feel an immense amount of thanks to my brothers. If I ever see them again, I owe each of them a hug for forcing me to learn how to wield Spears in the first place.

I look back and find the Gamemakers still aren't watching me. I still haven't impressed them enough to look. I wish there was water. I'm one of the best swimmers I know. I can hold my breath for almost three minutes and forty-five seconds, an impressive number in even District Four. If there was water, I'd have a way to impress these Gamemakers. I can only hope the arena has some.

I rip the spear from the dummy's head and aim again, this time at the bulls-eye's set up for archery and throwing knives. It doesn't hit dead center but it does land within the inner circle. A pretty good shot for someone without the Academy. Still no Gamemakers watch. I only have five minutes left and I spend them making fish-hooks until they dismiss me.

I head out and go straight for our floor of the tribute center. Kenrick is waiting on the couch with Mags and Finnick when I enter.

'How'd it go?" Kenrick asks excitedly. Behind him, Finnick give me a very wary expression and I know not to give too much away in my answer.

I shrug, "Alright, I guess. No one was really paying attention to anything I did."

I sit down beside him on the couch and bring my knees to my chest. I just need a decent number, as long as it's not below a five, no one will laugh or be angry. I'll shoot for a six or seven at best.

"No one really watched me that closely either," Kenrick says, stretching out one of his massive legs, "They only watched the beginning, for like ten minutes, maybe"

That's still more attention than I got from them and try not to let that get to me. Kenrick's huge, of course they'll want to watch him more closely. Maybe sponsors will want him too. Maybe I'll be all on my own in that arena. Panic starts to set in and I look to Finnick. He looks oddly calm. He probably thinks I did better than I really did. He always has too much faith in me.

I can't score badly. I just need a six or seven. An Eight and I'd be thrilled.

We sit around on the couch, talking absentmindedly about the other tributes and their mentors until Devereux and our stylists show up for dinner.

Dinner is a massive production tonight, and the main course is an assortment of different fish in a creamy green sauce so delicious I actually moan when I taste it.

"That is pesto," Devereux tells me as claps his hands together in excitement, "I thought you'd like it!"

"It's to die for," I say taking another huge mouthful.

"Well, you might actually have to die for it," Finnick reminds me.

I grab one of the seaweed rolls and chuck it across the table at him, pleased it skims his cheek before he caught it in his hand.

"Finnick," Devereux chides, "that's not really appropriate dinner conversation-"

"Isn't it?" Kenrick interrupts with a low chuckle. "I mean, he's right after all. Twenty-three people are going to die in that arena. So even if it's not one of us. Someone's dying for this food."

Silence rings out across the table as everyone turns to look at Kenrick. I'm usually the one who ruins meals with truth bombs. To hear Kenrick do it, and so callously, is frightening.

"Cheery, Kenrick," Merrill says taking a large wig of her wine. She pours a glass for Finnick and Mags and then slides one to me. I don't hesitate before I down a hug sip. With the scores coming out tonight I need as much as I can get.

One of the capitol attendants walks into the room with a silver platter that houses a large iced cake. It's decorated with the frosted versions of the tropical flowers we have at home.

"Finnick and I thought it might be a nice surprise for you two," Devereux said as the attendant places slices in front of us.

"Thank you, Devereux," I tell him, taking a bite of the decadent cake in front of me.

Devereux beams, flashing me his strange teeth. "You are most welcome."

Dinner doesn't last very long. Once Kenrick has finished his last bite of cake, the attendants are clearing the plates and Finnick is ushering us to the couches to watch the scores on the television.

I sit with Finnick on one side and Merrill on the other. I'm practically shaking with nerves and Merrill takes to braiding and unbraiding the back of my hair over and over to calm me.

"It will be fine," she assures me, "either way. Finnick has a plan."

"I wish he'd share it with me," I reply glumly. Merrill sighs and gives my shoulders a comforting squeeze.

Finnick is currently no help, he and Mags are glued to the screen. Kenrick has taken to pacing.

When the program starts I watch as Fane scores a 9, of course. I knew he had to be very good to volunteer at Sixteen when so much of his District waits another two years. Garnet scores a 10, and my mouth fills with cold dread. Out of all of the Careers, she terrifies me the most. Both Rex and Audra score 9s. When Kenrick's face flashes on the screen, no on moves. The yellow 9 flashes under his face and both Mags and Finnick cheer for him. When my face appears on the screen, I bury my face in my hands.

"Epperly!" Merrill yanks on my arm. "Open your eyes, Epperly!"

She rips my face away from my hands just as Finnick cheers. She points me at my own picture flashing across the screen, and I see the score for a second before it disappears.

Nine.

I scored just as high as the other Careers. My mouth falls open just as Finnick grabs my chin.

"I can work with a nine," he chuckles with a wink.

 _Nine._ I don't understand. I knew I had done better than expected. But that much better? I scored the same as Kenrick. I turn to look at him and see his face is blank. I can't tell if he's upset or not.

I want to stay up and celebrate, but Finnick and Merrill forbid it. Tomorrow's a busy day. They're prepping Kenrick and I for our interviews with Cesar Flickerman, so they send us both to bed. I shower and change into pajamas but sit still on top of my bed with the light on. I may have scored a nine, but it still doesn't change anything. Chances are I'm still going to die in the arena. I've only just made myself more of a target.

I've almost resigned myself to go to bed when someone knocks on the door. Finnick and the capitol attendants don't knock, so I figure its Devereux. "Come in."

It's not Devereux. It's Kenrick's curly head sticking in the doorway.

"Do you care if I come in for a few minutes?" he asks, "I want to talk."

"Sure," I say and he stalks in quietly. Kenrick never comes in here so I'm a little curious about what this is about.

He plops down on the bed and looks at the ceiling. "How exactly did you manage to score a nine today?" he asks.

My fingers freeze beside me, as my mind races at the question. "I got lucky I guess."

Kenrick leans up on his elbows to look me directly in the face. "But what did you _do_?"

I realize now Kenrick wants to know what kind of real skills I have. This entire time he never once thought of me as a threat. Only now, when we receive the same training score does he worry.

"I made some nets," I say quickly, "and trapped some of the practice dummy's. Nothing exciting." It's not an out and out lie. I did trap the dummy's but Kenrick doesn't need to know my skill with the spears yet.

"Oh," he says softly, content with the Finnick's useless narrative of me. "I thought maybe you did something else. Like you might be secretly deadly with a hatchet or something." He relaxes, seemingly thrilled that I'm incapable once again.

It's hard not to be furious with him for preferring me that way, but I know Finnick would want me to encourage it.

"It doesn't matter what score I get," I lie. "You know I'm going to die in that arena, Kenrick."

Kenrick doesn't say anything now, and I know he believes it. He thinks I'm going to die. He thinks he will win.

"We're allies," Kenrick reminds me. "You won't die early. When it happens, I'll make sure whoever does it, does it quick. And when I get back to District Four, I'll tell your family anything you want me too."

His arrogance is unparalleled. He speaks about someone murdering me so effortlessly my hand twitches into a fist. Every ounce of me wants to smother Kenrick with the pillow beside me but to my own credit, I ignore it.

Kenrick leans up and strokes my cheek. It takes everything I've got not to recoil from his touch.

He grins at me and then disappears through the door, leaving me furious and terrified of him


	6. The Interview

I'm glad when the prep day is over. I'd have taken training with the Careers any day over sitting for four hours with Devereux while he teaches me the proper way to sit straight and cross my ankles in an evening dress. Finnick's prep was even worse. He spent hour after hour teaching me to be alluring. His orders got more demanding as it went on; _Bat your eyelashes at the audience, Flirt with Cesar, Be confident but not scary, Make them want you._

The tone we were taking with my interview was clear; sexy. It's difficult for me. I want nothing more to be left alone and forgotten until my hopefully, very swift death comes. But Finnick is insistent on making me memorable and getting me the best sponsors he can.

On interview day, my prep team Gerdil and Moran wake me up at seven in the morning to get ready. They spend hours transforming me before Merrill even gets there. At least four hours was spent just on my hair. I stop counting after they use three lotions and various heated tools. When the finish, I see my hair falls in perfect bronze ringlets down my back. The top is voluminous and full. They do a great job.

I sit stoically until Merrill comes in to do my makeup. Periodically throughout the day, I take breaks to eat, but no one lets me look in the mirror.

I almost fall asleep when Merrill finishes my makeup. She puts few finishing touches on my hair and then slowly, with my eyes closed, guides me into my dress and shoes. As she ties the back of the dress, I'm aware of just how tight it is; the corseting makes it so that I can barely breath. The heels she gave me are sky high and it takes a little getting used where my balance is concerned.

"Okay open your eyes," Merrill orders. I do and see she's leading me over to a full-length mirror. I almost gasp when I see my reflection.

I've only ever worn makeup a few times in my life, and even then, it was usually just a bit of lipstick. There's not much cause for makeup with life in the water. But Merrill, she's an artist.

The woman in the mirror across from me, looks like me, only better. My eyelids are covered in a shimmery teal color and framed by huge dark eyelashes that make my eyes look twice their normal size. She's made my skin look flawless and glowy. My lips are pouted in a deep red.

But my face is outshined by the dress that Merrill has created. It's teal and skin tight from my chest all the way to my shins, where it balloons into green tool.

Immediately I know Finnick must have been involved at least somewhat in the design because it screams sexy. It's strapless and my chest is pushed so high up I can hardly breath. It's stretched so carefully across my body, it leaves nothing to the imagination. It is the perfect dress for someone who wants to be remembered. But more than that, it's stunning. I see it's covered in blue and green beading around the middle, that upon closer inspection I realize are the pattern of fish scales.

"Merrill," I whisper quietly, turning to get a look at the back. "You've outdone yourself."

Merrill beams, "I had a great model."

She comes behind me to straighten my hair on my back and smiles at my reflection in the mirror.

"You look beautiful," she tells me, "but let's be more than that tonight, okay? I want you to be unforgettable."

She turns me around by my shoulders so I'm looking right into her eyes. I notice today she has removed her foot-long eyelashes and she looks much more normal. But her face is serious now.

"If you want any chance of winning," she says sternly, "you've got to be charming. Everybody in the audience has got to want to be your best friend or your boyfriend. You've got to nail this."

"But no pressure, right?" I joke, feeling my stomach knot.

Merrill shakes her head. "I know you can do it. Don't worry."

She drags me to the elevators in our suite and I find Finnick, Mags and Kenrick waiting for us, with Devereux lagging behind.

"Oh my" Devereux clutches at his chest, "don't you just look wonderful."

Finnick comes over and circles me like some sort of animal. When he stops, he grins and turns to Merrill. "Good job, Mer. You made her look just right."

I ignore Finnick and walk over to where Kenrick is waiting for me. He wears a suit with a green tie, and is more put together than I've seen him look this entire process.

"I've never seen you look like that before," Kenrick muses, taking in my appearance with s strange look.

"Like what?" I ask quickly.

"Nothing," Kenrick says and suddenly he looks angry. "Finnick's really pulling out all the stops for you, huh? Why not just offer to sleep with anyone who sponsors you?"

He slams his hand down on the elevator button and the doors open immediately, giving me no time to pick my jaw up from the floor.

"Just ignore him," Merrill whispers, ushering me into the elevator with Finnick. "He's jealous."

Her words don't stop my anger from forming.

Some district partner. Some _ally_. Kenrick is acting like a child.

I don't say anything else to him while we ride down to the stage. The other tributes are arriving at the same time and are being ushered towards the stage. Garnet and Fane step off of the elevator at the same time as we do and I see her stylist had a similar vision for her, as Merrill did. Garnets hair is loose and she wears a sheer black dress. She takes one look at my dress and almost rolls her eyes. Merrill's design must really be envious.

My dress is so large at the bottom, I don't notice the dip in the floor. The grey-haired from Eight has to whip her arm out to keep me from tripping it over it.

"You okay?" she asks quickly. Her stylist has made her hair full and curled and now the strange color seems to suit her well. I'm just grateful she didn't let me fall in front of the other tributes.

"Yeah," I tell her, "thanks." She nods and walks away to find her District Partner.

I envy the rest of them. My district partner still seems peeved at me.

We still have a few minutes before we need to be on the stage, but everyone seems a little too tense to talk, clinging mostly to their district partners. Garnet and Fane keep throwing dirty looks my way and I wonder if it has anything to do with my dress or my training score. How am I supposed to trust these people in the arena when I barely trust them now?

"Your mentor knows what he's doing, huh?" a familiar voice asks beside me.

It's Firth. I barely recognize him in his all black suit. He looks so dapper outside of the training clothes it takes me a second to answer. The idea that's he's noticed how I look makes my stomach do a strange little flip.

"Yeah, well it doesn't seem to be gaining me very many friends," I nod my head slightly towards the other tributes.

Firth smiles, "If it makes you feel any better they're not very kind to me either."

"Probably because they think you'll steal their sponsors," I say with a roll of my eyes.

Firth shrugs, "At least they're your allies. You know they won't murder you on the first day. Not all of us get an invitation to join that pack."

"Allies," I whisper, " right."

Firth seems to sense my hesitation and changes the subject. "Is your district partner your boyfriend or something?"

I glance over at Kenrick who is now engaged in quick conversation with Garnet. He still looks furious with me.

I snort. "No, why?"

"Because he looks pretty pissed off at you right now," Firth says with a shrug.

"Kenrick runs hot and cold. I never know when he's mad at me or why," I tell him. "All I know is when the time comes. He won't stop someone from killing me."

Firth's mouth twists up in discomfort at my words and I go ahead and decide he's probably a decent person. It's a shame we'll probably both be dead tomorrow.

Tomorrow; the word rings loudly in my head. The Games are tomorrow.

People on both sides of us usher us onto the stage and sit us in District Order. Cesar Flickerman is already on the stage and I notice his choice of color for his hair and lips this Games is orange. I try my best to appear alluring and adorable as I walk with the other tributes to the audience's cheers. The entirety of City Circle is packed with people.

The entire thing seems to blur together as it begins. I barely register Garnet until she's joining Cesar on the stage. They chat for a few moments and I realize what her motivation is. Garnet is lethal and shows it. She's already a capitol favorite to win. Fane goes next and talks about how he wants to win the Games and be the second victor in his family. _Second!_ I want to puke.

Audra and Rex have very similar interviews; they appear capable and strong.

When Cesar calls my name, I want to pass out. Instead I give a sultry smile and strut towards him, joining him in the chairs on the stage. The crowd screams.

"Epperly, can I call you Epperly?" Cesar asks.

I can feel Finnick's eyes boring into mine from behind the stage and offer Cesar a huge smile. "Oh Cesar, you can call me anytime," I joke, giggling slightly.

The crowd bursts into laughter and Cesar joins them. "That's good. You're a funny girl."

Cesar straightens his notecards grinning as the audience simmers down.

"I must say you have made quite an impression in the capitol, young lady," Cesar says, "when I saw you at the reaping, my my I was thrilled you'd be joining us on this stage. First Finnick O'dair, now you, I think all of us here in the Capitol are wondering what beauty tricks you all get up to in District Four."

"I think my mentor is going to be furious with you, Cesar," I flutter my eyelashes. "Finnick will tell you himself, he's _loads_ prettier than me."

The crowd laughs again and Cesar throws his head back as he giggles. "She's a crack-up ladies and gentlemen, a riot!"

I give a tiny bow and blow kisses at the audience, they scream back. Somewhere I know Finnick is pleased.

"Now I've got to ask the question on everyone's mind," Cesar interrupts. "We're all more than a little curious to see if there a boy at home waiting for you in District Four?"

Here it comes, the question Finnick has dolled me all up for. Everything, sponsors included, hinges on my answer.

My mouth turns upward in the corners and I try to make my eyes as flirtatious as I can. "At home? No. But after seeing how gorgeous the people in the Capitol are, I might have to start looking when I come back."

The crowds howls and I know immediately I've done exactly what I was supposed to.

"That's how you do it," Cesar agrees, "You win and you'll have a line of Capitol suitors waiting out of the door for you."

"Well now _I have_ to win," I say. More howling. Cesar chuckles along with them. It takes a few seconds before he can manage anything over the crowd, but when he does, his face grows serious.

"Now, Epperly. Before we run out of time, I'd like to talk for a minute about something very interesting that was brought up yesterday."

I know what's coming and I still hope desperately it doesn't.

"And what's that Cesar?" I ask.

Cesar smiles. "You had a brother in the 62nd Hunger Games, Wilder Steelstrom. Yes?"

I can feel the tiny, imperceptibly crack in my flirtatious demeanor. The tiny crack that left unchecked will unravel everything Finnick and I have built since my reaping. I fix it before anyone can see it. Finnick prepared me for this question. I'm ready.

I grin and nod, "Yes I did."

Cesar gives me a small smile. "Your brother got very far in the Games. He scored a training score of Nine, and so did you. Do you think you'll be able to finish what he started and bring your family a victor?"

In truth, of course not. I feel a tear forming in my eyes and as much as I want to blink it back, I don't. I let it slide down my cheek, in full view of everyone. I can feel the camera closest to me zoom in. The audience lets out a collective _oh_ and clutch at their hearts.

" I really hope so, Cesar" I say quietly, delicately wiping the tear. From her seat. Garnet is shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

"I think we all do," Cesar agrees. "Epperly Steelstrom everyone!"

I wave again to the audience before I take my seat and am replaced by Kenrick. His interview is a little more formal than mine. He talks about his skill at throwing knifes and offers to show it on stage before Cesar clutches at his heart and they both burst out laughing. Cesar jokes with Kenrick that our opening ceremonies outfits must have been freezing. Kenrick says he just needs a woman to keep him warm, and the crowd goes wild. I can't help but think he's trying to jump on the train Finnick has built for me.

The rest of the interviews go by quickly. The girl from six is twitchy and can't focus on anything Cesar says making me think my morphling addiction theory might have been right. When they get to Seven, I realize tree-branch girl is named Iria and she scored a four in training. Unsurprising for her size and age, but still I feel bad for her. I hope foolishly that she makes it out of this okay. When it's Firth's turn, I find myself glued to him and Cesar.

The talk a little about his training score and only then do I realize he scored a ten. I find myself disappointed. He'll definitely be on the other Career's hit list now.

"So, Firth," Cesar says seriously, "Word is that your pretty lethal in training."

Firth smiles, "I don't know about _lethal_ , but I'm alright with an ax."

Cesar pouts, "Hmm. I'm sure that's an understatement. Still with such a high training score, you're clearly among those favored to win. How do you feel about the competition?"

Firth straightens his tie. "There's definitely some. A few of these tributes definitely have some skills hiding up their sleeves."

I must imagine the tiny glance he throws at me, but I don't think I do.

I watch the rest of the interview with mild interest and the show ends before I even realize. Panic starts to set in as I realize this could be my last night alive. Finnick is waiting for me behind the stage and yanks me asie.

"Perfect!" he shouts at me, out of his mind with excitement, "Charming, Funny, Sexy! You nailed it, I couldn't have done it any better myself. And that tear. Genius!"

I try to offer him a smile, glad that I pleased him but the dread is already starting to creep back in along with the terror. When we get to the elevators, Kenrick and Mags are waiting for us.

We all climb into the elevator and Finnick goes on and on about how great I did. I look pointedly away from Kenrick and practically stomp to my room to get away from him. I've just reached the door, when he stops and grabs me by the upper arm.

"Epperly hold on!" he shouts, turning me to face him.

I narrow my eyes at him. "What Kenrick? Do you have something else cruel to yell at me? Because if you haven't noticed I'm just doing what Finnick tells me to do. Do you think I want to go out there looking like this? Talking like this? Of course not. It sucks, but no one's asking you to do it, so shove off."

Kenrick doesn't say anything else. Instead he grabs my face and pulls it to his, angrily crashing our lips together. I'm furious and unmoving beneath him but it doesn't deter him any. He holds me there anyway. I contemplate kicking him in the groin but don't want to further enrage him before the arena. There will be enough people who want to kill me then.

"I'll see you in the arena tomorrow" he says and turns on his heels.

I'm furious, but say nothing. I wait until he's disappeared and slam the door to my room. Twice now since I've been reaped for these stupid games, people have kissed me, and twice it's made me mad. I can't help but think that with my probable and likely death occurring in the next few days, I'll never have a kiss I want to happen. As if I didn't have enough to be furious about already.

I shower and change, trying not to think about the Games or the Arena. But of course, the images of both keep me awake.

Tomorrow could be the last day of my life. Tomorrow, I will become the second Steelstrom in the arena.

I can only hope, that I don't die like the last one did.


	7. Ladies and Gentlemen

Merrill wakes me so early that the sun isn't up when she arrives. I barely slept last night, and from the look she gives me, I know my appearance must reflect it. I dress quickly knowing I'll have to change before the Games anyway. I'm anxious about seeing the clothing they'll give me. Whatever it is, will give me an immediate clue as to what I'm facing in the arena.

Merrill is oddly quiet as we wait for the Hovercraft, out of character for her. I wait for her to say something about the boring, gray Launchpad and nothing comes. She doesn't say anything when the Hovercraft drops down to collect us, or when the Capitol woman injects the tracker in my forearm. As the windows darken and we head to the arena, I find myself wishing Merrill would talk. It doesn't matter about what. Even listening to her prattle on about unimportant Capitol things would make me feel better. I just need something to distract me from the anxiety that's starting to creep up inside me.

When they serve us breakfast, I eat as much as I can despite the knots forming in my stomach. Who knows how long it will be before I find food in the arena? I swallow just enough to make me full but not sluggish. I gingerly take sips of water, while Merrill watches me, eating nothing.

When we finally get to the arena, Merrill and I are escorted through a winding series of underground tombs that seem to have no order or purpose other than to confuse and disorient us. We finally reach a room marked 4; Female, and go inside. The room's simple, mostly chrome with a bathroom, chairs and the metal plate. The very same metal plate that will launch me into the arena. My knees lock looking at it.

I don't know how long I have, but Merrill ushers me into the bathroom and tells me to shower and brush my teeth. The water is a little relaxing, and with my eyes closed I'm able to pretend I'm at home. The heated mat outside of the shower dried my hair instantly and it sits perfectly across my shoulders.

When I come out in my underclothes, I see Merrill clutching my arena clothes with a horrified expression. Looking at the thick dark green jacket in her hands, I understand why.

The arena will be cold.

There will be no oceans. No beaches under a heavy beating sun. I'm disappointed, but can't say I'm surprised. What little hope I had of winning and becoming victor drains from me. All I can do now is try not to die bloody. That's all I've wanted since day Reaping day.

"I'm so sorry, Epperly" Merrill says softly. "I know you were hoping for tropics."

I hold my hand up to her and offer her the kindest smile I can muster. "It's alright. I knew this was a possibility."

Her mouth hangs open sadly and I know she feels for me. She hands me the clothes with shaky hands.

I dress quickly. The outfit is simple and alarming. Thick gray pants with a black leather belt, long sleeved black thermal shirt, and the green jacket. The shoes are black leather boots that come up to my knees. They have thick, sturdy laces and seem like they would be good for climbing, unlike the shoes we wear at home.

Overall, I feel very bulky in the outfit. I've never worn this many layers before and the thought of the weather that must come with this outfit terrifies me.

Merrill twirls me and gives me a soft, depressed look. She runs her hands through my hair quickly. "I'd love to leave it down," she says, "but I guess that's not really practical."

"Having it blow around won't do me much good when dodging flying knives," I agree.

Merrill sighs and pulls my hair into a high ponytail at the base of my head. She double checks it to make sure it's secure before she lets go of me.

Neither of us are sure how much time we have before they will call for me. We sit on the couch together and she keeps my hand clasped tightly in hers. It's nice and reminds me of being home with my mother. I don't dare think about her or any of my family. I don't want to think about them sitting around the television, _watching_.

"I really think you have a chance, Epperly" Merrill whispers. "I honestly do."

My heart clenches and I know she's telling the truth. She and Finnick have had hope for me this whole time. Wasted hope. I don't want to disappoint them or waste all of their hard work, but with a freezing arena, they must know how this will go.

"I know," I tell her and squeeze her hand back.

We're interrupted when the female announcer's voice fills the room and tells me it's time to step onto the metal plate. The dread in my chest grows and seems to stretch into my arms and legs. Merrill helps me up onto the metal plate and looks me dead in the eyes., unblinkingly.

"It's been a pleasure working with you, Epperly," she says with tears in her eyes. She doesn't reach to wipe them, instead she lets them drip down her cheeks.

"You've been wonderful, Merrill. Thank you for everything. I couldn't have done it without you."

She lets out a little cry and then stops herself. "See you soon, okay?" she tells me, and it hangs in the air like a plead.

"I'll try," I assure her, and the glass tube comes down around me before she can say anything else. The fifteen seconds of darkness I'm plunged into feel like the last an eternity.

When I do finally see light, it's so bright I see nothing. They only thing I'm met with is the unfamiliar sting of cold wind whipping across my cheeks. It's foreign and as sharp against my skin.

One voice fills the silence as my eyes adjust enough to see, it's Claudius Templesmith's.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-second Hunger Games begin!"


	8. Let the 72nd Hunger Games Begin!

I only have sixty seconds to gather my bearings. Sixty seconds before the games begin. I blink around quickly, making sure not to step off of the metal plate even inch. At first, I'm confused because what is lingering around me is not the open-plains and meadows of Games past.

We seem to be in some kind of stone enclosure. The ground is flat, brown dirt-packed earth devoid of even a single blade of grass. On all sides of the other tributes is a towering, circular gray stone wall, with twelve arched openings. It takes me a moment to understand what it is. When it hits me, I'm angry. It's a maze. A giant, stone maze.

As if surviving twenty-three murderous tributes trying to kill us wasn't enough to worry about, now they add a maze? I try to limit the fury I feel shaking through me.

Above the tall stone walls, I can see the tips of tall sturdy pine trees. The kind I've only ever seen in books. Peeking out behind them, are a layer of brown, snowcapped mountains. This arena must be giant. It has to be to hold this much. It's full of things I've never seen or encountered before.

This arena is my own worst nightmare. And probably Kenrick's too. If there is water, I doubt I'd recognize a thing within it. I'm going to die in here.

I rip my eyes away from the sky and focus instead on what's in front of me. The golden cornucopia is about forty feet from me, and I can already see it laden down with fruitful spoils of weapons, food and water. That's where I have to head, to try and meet up with the other members of the Career Pack before someone has time to bury a knife in my skull or beat me to death. I know I have to charge straight there, but it scares me. The fights at the cornucopia are where most tributes die. Every instinct I have tells me to run in the opposite direction; to forgo the supplies, forgo my allies and run straight through one of the twelve openings in the maze wall.

Twelve openings; twenty-four tributes.

That means, you could run into one of them even in the twisting walls of the maze. That's not much more comforting than the Cornucopia.

I know the time must be running out and keep my left ear waiting for the sound of the gong. I sneak a peek at the tributes on either side of me; it's the girl with the grey hair from Eight and the blonde boy from Three. I look around wildly and don't see any of the other Careers near me, each of them are at least four people away from me. I'm separated from them and I can't help but think of how ironic that is. If I knew Finnick wasn't worried desperately right now, he'd probably find it hilarious.

Beside me, the boy from Three stares straight back at the arched exit with an unwavering stare. The girl from Eight, whose name I remember from her interview is Amaryllis, looks from the Cornucopia to the arched exits. She's unsure. Her hair is expertly twisted into two French braids on her head, and they both swing back and forth as she's tries to make her decision.

Her eyes only dart to mine for a second, long enough for me to see the panic that has risen in them. I don't look back. I know I don't have the time.

It will be up any second now. I lean forward, poising myself to run. The mouth of the Cornucopia is the only thing I see when I hear the gong ring out.

Time doesn't slow down the way I think it would. Instead it seems to speed up. I throw myself from the metal plate, sprinting with every ounce of my speed.

People can kill me now. People will try.

The boy from eight and Amaryllis are nowhere near me as I run towards the wide mouth of the Cornucopia, making me think they both took off towards the exits of the maze. The girl from Nine is at my heels as I reach the Cornucopia. She's must be fast. I could have sworn she was further behind me when the gong rung. And has she always been so tall?

My eyes narrow in on the first thing I see; a heavy bowie knife with a thick leather handle. Just as my fingers reach around it. Someone grabs at my legs, slamming me to the ground.

It's the girl from Nine. Somewhere on the route she stopped to grab a heavy wooden bat, she swings it above me menacingly. On all sides of us now the Cornucopia is filled with tributes grabbing supplies and running the other way. The entire world seems to be spinning on its sides. I grip the knife in my hand tightly and from the floor I slash it across her ankles. She cries giving me enough time to move into a crouching position.

The girl from Nine narrows her eyes and lifts the bat again. I know the look in her eyes well. She aims to kill. She doesn't have time to swing it at me. A wide red stain spreads across her chest and she falls face down on the ground ahead of me.

Buried in her back, is a knife.

"You're welcome, Epperly."

I get to my feet and see Kenrick with sheath handful of knives across his chest. In his hand, he clutches a stack of throwing stars. Fane is at his side, with a long thin machete already dripping with scarlet blood.

"Come on Four!" Fane shouts and darts across the dirt towards the boy from Ten.

My allies have arrived.

I stand and grab the knife tighter joining them, hoping I'm slow enough to avoid the bloodshed. If someone comes at me, I know I'll have no choice, but I'm trying to put off the killing as long as I can.

Across the clearing I can see the bloodbath is still occurring as tributes try to make their way to the Cornucopia. Audra seems to be guiding the supplies at the mouth of the Cornucopia, shooting arrows from a gleaming silver bow at any tribute who dares come near. In the middle of the earth I see a sheath of dark red hair, burying a mace over and over into the skull of the boy from eleven. Most of the girls keep their hair tied up on the first day of the Games. Only one person would be arrogant to leave it loose like that. Garnet is just as lethal as she appeared.

I dart out the way as the girl from twelve that Fane is chasing tries to take my head off with a sword. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar face dart into view; dark hair, incredibly blue eyes. My mouth goes dry. It's Firth.

He's clutches a heavy ax I'm sure was put there for him. It's already dripping with blood that I think might be his. He looks to me only for a second, his blue eyes pleading and I realize I have my knife poised and ready in one hand. I forget that I'm a Career.

To him, I must look like a threat. He thinks I'm a threat.

 _Stupid!_ I think. Firth is the _threat._ He's lethal. He should have run straight for the exits. He'd have lived. Why did he linger here with the likes of Garnet and Fane? Then it hits me, the ax. He wanted the ax. That weapon is what makes _him_ lethal.

Firth is only feet from the nearest archway now. From my other side, Kenrick spots him at the same time I do and grins. He and Garnet have wanted him dead since training, neither of them will stop until he's dead. Kenrick readies a knife to throw. _No,_ I think. _Not him_.

Kenrick has already extended his arm and sent the knife flying. I know his aim and he never misses. I watch as Firth's eyes widen with the realization that he's going to die.

Without thinking, I throw my left hand in the direction of the knife. I'm close enough to Firth that it skates across my palm, tearing at the flesh before it scatters to the dirt below me.

Silence fills the clearing as blood trickles down the length of my arm in a steady burgundy stream. Firth only stares for a second before he turns and dives through the archway, disappearing.

I wonder idly if he knows I just saved him. I hope he does because chances are I'll now be dead at Kenrick's hands.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO?" Kenrick roars beside me. He has another knife from his sheath in his hand and is inches from me, clearly debating whether or not to sink it into my chest.

 _Lie or run. Lie or run_. I know those are my only two choices now. I want to run, but running doesn't make sense. I have nothing on me besides the knife in my hand and Kenrick is only inches from me. He'd catch me.

No, I have to lie and hope Kenrick's preference for me is still present in the arena. It was certainly there the other night. I could probably fake a kiss or two again if it meant keeping that knife out of my chest.

"It was going to miss," I assure him as confidently as I can muster. "I could see it. It wouldn't stick and then you'd be giving him one of _our_ weapons." I make sure to stress the our, reminding him were in this together, as a unit.

Kenrick blinks, still looking furious. I give him the softest, most pleading look I can and reach out to stroke the length of his arm, keeping my hand resting delicately on his elbow.

The effect is instantaneous. His mouth curves into a confident smile and he gives me a quick nod. "Yeah, you're probably right. Don't want to arm the little asshole, do we."

One of his hands falls to my waist for a second. I don't shutter even though I want too, and let him lead me away from the archways and back toward the Cornucopia.

I let out every breath I've been holding onto. I keep my left hand closed into a fist to try and stop the bleeding that's spreading through my fingers. I'm not even sure if I knew how close to death I just was. Kenrick's fondness for me must be stronger than I thought.

 _See Finnick_ , I think, looking to where I'm sure there's a camera zeroing in on me, _I can play these little Flirting Games too._

I almost stop dead in my tracks when I turn around. Scattered all across the dirt-packed clearing are the bodies of the dead tributes, blocking our path as Kenrick and I cross the clearing. Among them is both the tributes from District Six. The girl, the morphling addict, still has the throwing star buried in her chest. Kenrick's doing no doubt. I realize the majority of these kills were the Careers and the knife feels heavy in my hand. I've killed no one today. In fact, I saved one person. My kill list is at negative one. Finnick is going to murder me himself for that. Everyone knows it's easier to get sponsors the higher your kill list is. As I pass the boy from five with a throwing knife stuck in his head, I realize Kenrick might be the one getting the parachutes in here.

I can't look at the faces of the other bodies I pass; the girl from Five, the boy from Nine.

Across the dirt-packed clearing, Fane is finishing off the girl from twelve with a knife to the chest. Audra stands tone face at the front of the Cornucopia with the bow in her hand, an arrow still strung and ready inside it.

A few feet away, Garnet stands over her mace victim confidently. She's killed so viciously I can't even tell who the tribute was. Garnet's heads for us, a wide, toothy smile plastered on her face as she twirls the mace like a toy in her other hand. The front of her jacket and neck is scattered with blood.

I look down and find a few spots of blood on the front of my own jacket. I can't tell which is my own and which belongs to the girl from Nine that Kenrick knifed. The thought is gruesome.

"Where's Rex?" I ask quickly. The other tributes have already cleared out and headed into the maze. The only ones left that aren't Careers, are dead.

Kenrick's face hardens immediately and Audra lets out an angry cry. It's such a shock to hear her with her voice raised in any way I almost drop my knife.

Fane nods to a body face down a few feet to my right. I realize now it's Rex's massive form. A dark puddle of blood has pooled beneath him.

"Rex got an ax to the chest," Fane adds. An ax? I Immediately know who it was that killed him. Yes, Firth is just as dangerous as I thought he was.

Audra lets out another cry and Garnet gathers all of her hair to one side of her shoulder, rolling her eyes dramatically. "There's only one winner, Audra," she says sharply. "It's good he died early, now we've got one less person to worry about."

"I'm going to gut that tribute from Seven," Audra screeches. "He'll look like mincemeat when I'm done with him."

"Don't worry, Audra" Garnet seethes. "He'll die bloody."

I'm still having trouble processing the fact that Rex died. Career Tributes never die during the Cornucopia bloodbath, and certainly not someone as strong as Rex. If people were betting on which Career Tribute would die first, I'm sure their answers all would have been me.

Audra slams her bow against the wall of the Cornucopia loudly. I had no idea she and her District Partner were close. Then again, that wouldn't have mattered much. Losing your District Partner is hard either way. Kenrick's eyes dart over to mine quickly and then back to Garnet.

"I see _you_ lived," Garnet says to me with a smile. It's such obvious fake enthusiasm I'm surprised she doesn't just swing the mace at me now. "Did you even kill anyone yet?"

"She was about to take down the girl from Nine," Kenrick says quickly, "but I stole her right out from under her."

" _Shame_ ," Garnet says, twirling her mace. She gestures to the piles of bodies that litter the ground. "Are you going to let us do all of the work, Four? Or do you think you'll actually use that cute little knife of yours at some point."

I'd like to use my cute little knife right now on Garnet but I know now is not the time. My situation among these other tributes is already too unstable. I have to play nice.

"I'm sure I'll get my kills in," I tell her.

Garnet shrugs. "Maybe."

My knife hand twitches as she skips away to the mouth of the Cornucopia to join Audra. Fane is already there, laying the remaining weapons on the table.

"Everyone should take what they want now," he warns. "Anything that's left is getting dumped somewhere. I don't want any tributes getting their hands on these."

Garnet rolls her eyes and takes a long machete to join her mace. As well as a tiny hatchet. Audra grabs an extra sheath of arrows and slings them across her back.

I immediately go for the heavy silver spear. It's just like the one they had in the practice room and the weight feels right I my hands. This is the only weapon I feel truly comfortable with. This is the one I'll bury in Garnet's chest if she comes anywhere near me.

I keep the knife too, and sling it on my belt just in case. Fane dumps the extra weapons in one of the crates and moves to sorting the food and water. I notice there's less food and water in the Cornucopia then their usually is, only enough to sustain the five of us for another two days, three if were sparing or one of us dies.

"I wonder why there being so stingy with the food," Fane snaps showing everyone's rations at them. I ended up with a few strips of dried meat, and a loaf of grainy bread. He hands me a canteen half filled with water.

"They're trying to draw us out," I realize.

"What?" Audra asks.

I point at the maze and whatever lies beyond it. "They want us to go through the maze, that's why were in here and they didn't give us very much. They're hoping we'll get hungry and thirsty enough to go through there."

"Right," Audra snorts. "Like I'm going out there if I don't have too. That's a good way to get trapped and killed."

Kenrick rolls his eyes, "Eventually we'll have too. We'll run out of food and water. Not to mention the other tributes won't be wandering back here in the middle of the night."

"We'll go when we run out of supplies," Fane says. "Not before."

Garnet tosses her hair, "Agreed. Then we'll kill some tributes."


	9. The Career Pack

We spend most of the first day in the Games, organizing everything in the Cornucopia. There does seem to be less supplies in it than usual and that's not a comforting thought for anyone. In addition to the food and weapons we find some backpacks and tents. Nothing else.

I put my rations of food and water into one of the backpacks along with my extra knife, keeping it safely secured on my back.

I stay close to Kenrick for most of the day. Out of all of the other careers. I trust him the most. He makes it difficult for me, always standing a little close, touching me for too long. I know it's my own fault but I'm terrified to cross him.

The cut on my hand finally stops bleeding and I realize that the wound is shallow, thankfully. Kenrick helps me gather a strip of cloth to tie it off, and tells me again how if I hadn't gotten in his way, I'd be fine and Ax-boy would be dead. I don't tell Kenrick I prefer the wound. Firth has been nice to me, I don't want to watch him die.

The arena is just as cold as I dreaded. The wind whips so harsh across my face it stings, and I have trouble gripping the steel of my spear. As it gets later I can feel the temperature dropping even lower. I keep my jacket wrapped tightly around me and so does Kenrick. Neither of us are used to cold like this. The other Careers don't seem to mind the weather, and often don't even need their jackets. I'm envious of that at least.

By midafternoon, the hovercraft comes to pick up all of the bodies from the clearing. The five of us sit huddled in the Cornucopia, watching as they are lifted into the air, one at a time. Rex, both tributes from Districts Five and Six, the girl from Nine, the boy from Eleven, and the Girl from Twelve. Eight dead in all. When the last body is picked up, the cannons go off. There are ten of them, meaning two more tributes have died somewhere else in the arena. I don't let myself think about who they are, but I find myself hoping it wasn't Firth. I didn't take a knife to the hand to have him die on the first day.

When night falls we, all sit cross legged in the Cornucopia, keeping a close eye on one another. We may be an alliance, but even the other Careers are wary. After all, how long can this last? Eventually the anthem plays and the Panem seal appears in the sky. I pay close attention to the fallen tributes.

"The boy from Eight and the girl from Eleven," I say quietly. "Those are the others who died."

Garnet chuckles, "I wonder which one of the other tributes is out there taking care of our job for us."

"If I had to guess," Fane says tossing one of the knives in his hand, "I'd say it's District Seven.

"He wasn't that good," Garnet says shaking her head. "It's got to be someone else."

Audra bites her lip. "He did kill Rex."

"So?" Garnet asks coldly, "Rex was weak. He scored lower than _Epperly_ in training." Her eyes drift over to me with a smirk.

I ignore her rude jibe and continue staring out at the clearing. I don't need to give Garnet anymore of a reason to dislike me. She seems to have enough on her own.

"He was not weak!" Audra snarls at Garnet.

Garnet raises an eyebrow at Audra and then rolls her eyes. "Whatever. It doesn't really matter. It's not District Seven out there killing, it's got to be someone else."

Fane looks confused. "No one else's scores even came close to ours though..." he says

"Enough about the scores, Fane!" Garnet practically shouts at him. "They're not absolute. Whoever it is could have had an off day during practice sessions or could have purposefully scored low. People do that. You need to open your eyes!"

"Let's everyone calm down," Kenrick says quickly. "We'll find whoever it is when we leave the maze, alright?"

Garnet blinks indignantly and Fane gives her a dirty look. Is it possible they've already starting fighting amongst themselves? That isn't good. Career Packs and alliances split quickly when they start to fight.

I should leave, I think. The archways are about forty feet from where we sit. I'm fast, I could make it if I ran, but I'm afraid someone will follow me. My legs stay rooted in place, as fear keeps me mobilized. If I want to leave this pack, I'll have to be smart about it. It's not as if I can just pick up and say goodbye. It will require planning.

The others devise a sleeping schedule that requires two people up at all time. One to watch over us and one to make sure no one sneaks in. I'm not on either of the first two shifts but still I don't sleep. I can't let myself. I don't trust the others. Not even a little.

It's frigid now that it's night and its keeping me awake. My eyes stay closed but the shivering that's ripping through my body makes it hard to even concentrate on sleep. I try anyway, no matter how futile it is.

It's a few hours later, when I hear the running. It's fast, desperate running. Whoever it is is stupid, alerting us of their presence. I watch as beside me every one of the other Careers stirs and awakens.

Someone darts quickly through one of the archways and stops, frozen in their tracks. It's a girl, very young maybe fourteen. I vaguely recognize her as the tribute from District 3.

She stops, frozen in place staring at the pack of Career tributes in front of her. Her eyes dart backwards but she doesn't run back the way she came. Instead her eyes transfix to one of the other arched exits. It's farther, a bit of a run but she's determined. Why wouldn't she go back the way she came? She has to know she won't be able to outrun this many Careers.

Suddenly I realize why she wouldn't turn back. Something is chasing her. Either Mutt or Tribute, she knows for certain to go back is to die.

She breaks out into a run and almost makes it into the other archway, when Garnet's mace slams into the side of her head knocking her to the ground.

"Not fair, Garnet!" Audra shouts, running over to her, bow and arrow in hand. "You got the last one. This one's mine!"

Kenrick is faster than her, and has already joined Garnet's side, weighing which knife to use in his hand. I stand frozen still in the base of the cornucopia, unable to look away.

Fane lets out a dark laugh, as he catches up with them. "If you insist on killing District Seven, Audra. I get this one."

The girl is screaming now, pleading. She's begging them not kill her. Every ounce of me wants to rush to her, to help her, but I know I won't be able too. All four of the other Careers are circling her now. She has only seconds.

Fane draws a long sword from his side and slams it down so quickly, I only have a second to look away before I hear her first scream. It's bloodcurdling and loud. Something about it rips into me. I can't watch this. I can't stay here and be a part of it. I have a moment now, while they're all distracted. I can get out of here.

I don't hesitate. The other Careers are still too busy enjoying their kill. Spear in hand, I take off for one of the other arched exits, the one the girl was heading for. I'm glad I prepared my backpack because I don't have to worry about leaving emptyhanded. I tear across the clearing as fast as I can and almost barrel through the wall as I dive through one of the Maze's exits.

"Epperly?" Kenrick calls. He saw me at the last second. He realizes what I'm doing. "EPPERLY!" He's furious now.

I can hear him shouting for me, but I don't stop. I'm already in the maze and still sprinting. I turn every time I can, trying to put as much distance between me and the clearing as I can. I've rounded at least four corners and I can still hear them shouting from the Cornucopia.

"WHERE DID SHE GO?" It's fainter now but I'm sure it's still Kenrick shouting. I don't know which way I'm going but I keep running, hoping and praying that I don't end up back through one of the exits into the clearing.

I keep running and turning corners following the now familiar pattern of the stone walls until I can no longer hear the shouting of the other Careers. I must be decently far from them now. I can't hear any of their voices.

I hear the cannon go off, and realize that they must have finally finished off the girl from District Three. My heart pounds loudly in my ear. I got away because of her. I'm alive right now because of her. Her death weighs heavy on me.

I don't stop. I slow my pace and keep moving. Something tells me the Careers won't come looking for me yet, but that doesn't mean they won't. I remind myself that the Career's aren't the only thing to worry about out here. There are still twelve other tributes out there searching for people to off. I don't want to be one of them.

I know at some point the camera will be following me to show the audience that I have left the Career pack. I don't know if this will increase or decrease my number of sponsors, and I honestly don't care. I couldn't stay with the Careers anymore. It doesn't change the fact that somewhere Finnick is furious with me. His words ring so loudly in my head I can't ignore them; _Stay with the Careers, rest up, eat. Stay a couple of days. A week._ I snort. I didn't even make it twelve hours with the Careers. I'm hungry, exhausted and stumbling around in the dark all alone. Yes, somewhere Finnick is furious. I wouldn't be surprised if he jumps ship and sides with Kenrick.

I walk for what feels like hours and eventually am to overcome with exhaustion to keep moving. I curl up in one of the corners of the maze and clutch my spear. This is a horrible place to bunker down for the night. If someone stumbles upon me, I'll be dead before my eyes open, but I'm so tired I'm having trouble walking straight. My throat burns and I only take a few sips from the canteen, knowing I can't waste it. I don't know how long I'll be stuck in this stupid maze, or when I'll find water.

I try to stay up as long as I can but soon my eyes start to droop and I fall asleep.


	10. The First Kill

The sound of a cannon wakes me up.

It's so loud and clear it jolts me awake and my spear clatters to the ground. It takes a few seconds for me remember where I am. My eyes dart around until I recognize the repeating pattern of stones on the maze wall.

No one's killed me yet. I breathe a sigh of relief. Sleeping hear had been a risky idea, but someone I made it through. Still the sound of the gong means someone's dead and it keeps me on my toes. Counting the girl from Three last night, and whoever this new death is, that means there's only eleven tributes left. Only ten more people to face. I can't help but think that's quick, it hasn't even been twenty-four hours into the Games and already more than half of us are dead. Somewhere, thirteen families grieve.

I need to be more careful. I move to my feet, stretching as I do. My left hand stings a little as I stretch, and I remember the knife wound from yesterday. I peak under my makeshift fabric bandage and see the bleeding has stopped, and it's clotted. It looks like it's healing okay, so I wrap the bandage back around it.

It's morning now. The sun is rising slowly in the sky, making the arena a little less miserably cold than it was last night. I listen carefully but I can't hear any tributes near me. The only sound I hear is the chirping of some kind of colorful birds as they soar overhead.

My throat is incredibly dry from sleeping in the cold, so I take a few precious sips from my canteen, promising to replenish it as soon as I can. I weigh it in my hand, it's still about a quarter full. I should be fine for a while, but I need to find water before tomorrow, if I live that long.

I make it my mission for today to get out of this maze at least. If I have any chance of surviving these Games, I know I'll need to find some food and a water source. Neither of which will be in these stone walls. I walk quickly, chewing on a chunk of bread and a strip of meat as I do. The maze looks exactly the same every time I turn a corner, so that I have no way of knowing if I'm getting closer to the exit or heading back in the direction of the clearing, something the Gamemakers probably did on purpose. It seems a little stupid to me. It will be very boring for the audience if they have to watch all of us die of thirst and dehydration in here. Those kinds of deaths won't be very good for ratings.

Occasionally, I see a tiny patch of weeds, or a flower growing along the edge of one of the walls, and it's the only reassurance I have that I'm not walking past the _same_ walls over again. After almost two hours, I'm exhausted and agitated at the Gamemakers. I pass by a tiny white flower growing in a patch of weeds and I freeze. I saw that flower thirty minutes ago. I remember because it looks exactly like a smaller version of the tropical flowers we have at home, and one of its petals had fallen into the patch of weeds beneath it.

I've been past this wall before. I'm traveling the same way I already have been. Fury bubbles up inside me and I kick the wall closest to me.

"How am I supposed to play these Games from inside a stupid maze!" I shout frantically at the sky. I hope the cameras are on me now. I want the audience to see how furious I am, how ridiculous an idea this arena is. After a moment, I realize it was stupid. If any other tributes are in the maze too, they can hear me. Then I chuckle, good luck finding me. I doubt any of the other tributes are having much better luck with this stupid thing than I am.

I cross my arms in frustration trying to decide which way to go when I see a familiar shape floating down from the sky. The gray parachute drops down right in front of me and I'm in such shock it takes me a minute to lunge for it. I'm hoping it's water. As time goes on, I'm less optimistic about finding another source of water.

It's no water. Inside the parachute is a tiny gold tube. The shape looks strangely familiar to me, and as I pop off the top I see an angled, red waxy stick. It's lipstick, just like the kind Merrill used on me before the interviews. My eyes narrow in fury as I roll it over in my hands.

Finnick sent me lipstick.

This must be a message. Is he angry that I've left the Careers, and so instead of water or lifesaving materials he sends makeup? It seems like a costly joke to me. It's not cheap to send gifts to a tribute and he wastes it on a message like this.

"Lipstick?" I demand to the camera's I know are on me. "Real funny, Finnick."

I put the cap on the tube and clutch in in my hand, rolling my eyes. If I ever make it out of this stupid maze, I'm going to use it to write a very crude message on a tree for my mentor.

 _Write a message._ I stop dead in the middle of the maze as realization washes over me. It's not a joke at all. I rip the cap off the tube frantically and twist the bottom, hoping my suspicions are right. To my delight, the waxy tube keeps twisting until its almost the length of my forearm.

It's not lipstick. It's a marker. Finnick has given me a way to mark which way I've gone in the maze. He's given me a way to get out.

I look back up to the sky. "Sorry Finnick! And Thank you!" I say loudly, giving him an apologetic, sheepish expression. Somewhere I know he's rolling his eyes at me, but that doesn't bother me. If he's still managed to scrape together a sponsor gift for me, that means he's forgiven me for ditching the Careers. Finnick is still fighting for me.

I take the marker and draw an arrow across the wall they way I'm going and head off in that direction. I do it every time I turn a corner and soon the marker is a ¼ of the way used. A few times, I pass my own markings and know to go the opposite way. It goes on for a while and when I turn one corner, I pass another marker, but this one is blue. It reads; _this way_.

Someone else is in this maze. Someone else got a sponsor gift of a marker. There could be another Tribute lurking around this maze. Part of me knows this could be a trap, but I'm too desperate from walking through the maze for the half of the day, not to try it. If I spend another whole day in here, I'll surely go crazy. Staying on my guard, I follow the marker, clutching my spear tightly as I move. I come to a fork in the maze, and the blue marker tells me to make a left. I do and mark my own red line beside it. I can't help but think how strange this is.

I round the next marked corner and find a beam of light shining through the wall several hundred feet in front of me. It's the maze's exit. I almost cry I'm so excited and walk quickly towards it.

The exit is exactly the same as the entrance, arched and tall, but this one leads outward. I linger in the doorway for a second, clutching my spear, taking in the surroundings. There's a long plain of nothing but grass, that's only a few hundred feet from the edge of the forest full of large, thick pines.

I take a step out slowly and feel the first traces of unobstructed sunshine on my skin. It's not enough to warm me from the chill in the air, but it's something at least. I take a few steps forward to try and enjoy it, but am forced to stop in my tracks. There's a large dried pool of red blood a foot from the maze's wall. I blink quickly and a million questions race through my mind. How long has that been there? Was that the blood of this morning's cannon or from the night before? _Whose_ blood is that?

I don't get the chance to answer. Something whips past my left hair, ruffling my ponytail. It bounces off of the stone wall behind me and falls to the ground in a clatter. It's a silver arrow.

Another arrow misses my chest by inches, soaring past my right shoulder, and I take off at a run, heading for the opening of the woods. There is a tribute somewhere in those tree's, shooting arrows at me. Whoever it is wants me dead. I dart away from another arrow and start to zig zag. I remember my brothers once telling me it's harder to hit a moving target when they move around like that. I veer to the left and have to dart to the ground. An arrow skims the side of my neck so closely I feel it on my skin, but it doesn't draw blood.

I'm back on my feet again in seconds, desperate to escape the arrows. The trees are just in front of me now. I barrel into them, keeping my spear outstretched in front of me in case the tribute decides to show himself.

The woods are not something I've ever experienced before and I know I'm at a disadvantage. I can't conceal myself inside them, or use them as shelter like the other tributes probably can. Any tribute with from a woodsy district has the upper hand.

It's hard to stay to sprint through the uneven ground, and I constantly have to keep slowing down to avoid tree roots that inch their way up from the soil. I know I must be making a ton of noise, but I was so desperate to escape the bow and arrow tribute, I didn't care. Now I realize, noise means alerting other tributes to my location, so I stop and look around. I'm surrounded by large, wide-trunked pine trees on all sides. Their foliage is thick and fills the entire area with it's strong aroma.

I frown at them. The branches on these trees don't start until at least twenty-five feet up, making them very difficult to climb, not that I have any experience doing it anyway. The sight of them pretty much defeats any plans I had of hiding in a tree until this whole thing is over.

I focus instead on finding water. I have no landmarks, and no knowledge in these trees so I decide to just walk through until I come across it. At least the trees are close enough together here that it makes it a little darker, and harder to spot me.

The ground here is starting to move downward, and it's getting colder, making me think I'm approaching the mountains. A lot of fallen branches litter the ground here and each snap of another broken twig under my boot makes me cringe. I need to try and be quieter. I'd do a hundred times better without these thick, heavy boots but it's too cold to go barefoot.

When I start to hear a rushing sound to my left, I get excited. I'd know that sound anywhere, it's running water. I follow the sound, trying to keep as quiet as possible, something that's proving harder and harder with the sheer amounts of branches and pine cones on the ground.

After a five-minute walk, I see a thick, flowing stream through the trunks of the trees. I approach it cautiously and find no other tributes lingering on its bank. A wide smile creeps across my face as I drink the remaining water in my canteen and refill it. I know I'll have to boil it in order to drink it, but I'm just overjoyed I found water at all. I thought for sure I'd die of dehydration before I did.

I crouch on the bank of the stream and see its very shallow and continues on deep down the length of the forest, probably disappearing somewhere deep in the base of the mountains. The water ripples slightly and I see a school of blue fish swimming under the surface of the water. Excellent. This is the only part of the Games where I know I'll flourish. As long as there's fish, I'll eat. I've got to have that advantage at least over some of the other tributes. _Here Capitol_ , I think, _watch me feed myself._

I check around quickly to make sure there are no lingering tributes. In a moment, I'll be far too distracted to notice if anyone is watching, making me easy pickings.

Once I'm sure I'm the only one in the area, I strip off my boots and socks and roll my pant legs up to my knees. I tie my boots together by their laces and hang them over my neck, so if I'm interrupted, I don't have to leave them behind.

Carefully I step into the stream, and crouch, shivering. The water is almost freezing and feels miserable against my skin. My toes bury in the mud on the floor of the stream for warm, but they still aren't used to the temperature. After a few seconds, I regain my composure and still. The water here has to be immobile before any fish will travel this way again. So, I wait, standing as still as possible my spear poised and ready in my hand. I've done this so many times with my brothers at home that even the familiar pose reminds me of them. I wonder if they're watching now and if they're happy I've managed to find water and fish. If they are watching, I know they're probably critiquing my form, and I smile. I can almost hear Byron now, " _Well, yeah you found fish, Epps, but if I were there, I'd have caught six already…."_

Eventually, I see another small school of fish a few feet ahead, coming straight for me. I wait, and ready my spear. When they pass, I slam my spear into the water. I'm already sure of which fish I've hit before I lift my spear. Year and years of practice have made me quick, and scarily good at aim. I lift spear from the water and find the fat fish still flailing. I grin at it and pluck it from the spear in my hand. I wait until it's taken it's last breath and shove it roughly into my bag.

I stay in the brook for another few minutes and manage to catch another smaller fish I recognize immediately. Eventually it becomes too cold for me to stay in the water any longer and I dart out of it, trying to dry my frozen feet on my jacket before shoving my shoes and boots back on.

Two fish and fresh water isn't a bad haul. A trident could probably catch more, but if there was one in the Cornucopia, one of the other tributes got too it before I did. Only a few of the tributes made it to the Cornucopia, and less made it out after they did. I can't really picture what tribute that's not from District Four would have any use for a trident. It's a heavy weapon that's pretty hard to master if you've never used it before. It would be more use to me for capturing dinner than fighting. There are other ways of keeping me feed, though. I know that if I really want to eat well in this arena, I'll have to find some rope. If I have rope, I can weave nets that could catch seven times what I did with the spear. If my brothers have taught me anything, it's how to make good nets.

I decide if I'm going to make a fire, I might as well do it now while I'm awake and the smoke will be harder to see. It's colder at night, that's when people will be expecting the fires. There's a possibility if I make one now, no one will see.

I head about ten minutes away from the stream, remembering where it is for later, and sit down. In the base of two wide tree's, I make a pile of small greenery and twigs that will catch easily. I use my knife to cut and clean the two fish. One is salmon, and the meat is pink and flaky. The other, the fatter of the two must be some kind of genetically altered capitol fish because I don't recognize it's markings as anything I've ever seen before. It's meat is white and heavy and looks harmless enough. I make a small fire with twigs and I'm instantly glad I spent some time trying this during training because it takes me almost fifteen minutes before I can get it started. I place both fat pieces of fish and my canteen on the fire and stand, with my spear waiting for anyone to approach.

I smile. Now I have food and water, and the sun hasn't even set yet. After five minutes, I take my canteen off of the water and let it cool down, and wait another five minutes for the fish.

 _Snap!_

A twig breaks behind me and my head spins around in enough time to see the boy from Ten with a machete. His eyes are wide and his eyes dart from me to the fish on the cackling fire. His mouth slacks open and I can't tell which he's more excited to take; my life or my food.

I'm crouched on the ground, in position that makes me vulnerable. The second I lift the spear in my hand, I know he'll pounce, and I'm not sure if I'll be quick enough to stop him.

"It's kind of stupid to set a fire, don't you think?" he asks me.

My spear hand lifts two inches. I shrug trying to make him think I'm still calm and keep him from diving towards me.

"Maybe," I say evenly, "but Fish tastes better when it's cooked." My spear inches up a little more. He smiles.

"Well, I guess I'll see for myself," he says and dives for me. My blood turns cold as I realize that this is the moment; the first _real_ moment of the Hunger Games for me. This is the moment, where I kill or be killed.

He whips the machete down, and aims it's point for my chest, just as I yank my right arm forward and shove the spear into his stomach.

The spear doesn't stop him as quickly as I hoped and he brings the machete down on me. I jerk out of the way and he hits my shoulder, ripping open my jacket sleeve and sinks the blade into my shoulder. I can only hope it's not bad.

"What-" the boy stops, looking at the circle of blood forming around the point of my spear. I twist the spear again and slam backward into the ground, almost landing face first in my fire.

It hisses and I feel the last few inches of my hair get singed off as I roll away.

The boy from Ten is staggering on his feet, as blood flows from his mouth and dribbles down his chin. The circle of blood on his stomach is now wider than his head and growing. He still clutches the machete in his hand but drops it to pull my spear from his stomach, in a slow gruesome manner.

Once it's out, he falls face down on the ground. I wait a second, still propped up by my elbows and panting. I wait for the cannon for a few seconds and it doesn't come. If he'd not dead, I have to finish him off. I can't just leave him here.

As I get to my feet, I draw my knife from my hip. He's making tiny little, breathy noises now and it sounds like whimpering. I'm slow as I approach him, still hoping he will give out before I have to do any more damage, but it doesn't. I squeeze my eyes shut and then bury the knife in the back of his neck.

A cannon rings out.

My heart almost stops when it does. I've killed him. The boy from District Ten lies dead on the ground because of me. This is my first kill of the Games, and I don't know how to feel.

I bite my tongue to keep from letting any tears come. The Cameras are definitely on me now and the last thing I need is for everyone in the Capitol to see me crying over one death. Nothing ruins sponsor deals like an inability to kill. That's how you die in the arena.

I sink to the floor and busy myself with cleaning up after myself, to try and appear boring enough that the cameras will move on to someone else. I recover both my knife and spear and wipe the boy's blood off of them. The boy has a backpack with supplies from the Cornocopia. I clear it out and find an extra pair of socks, a bottle of water, and a package of crackers. I put the spoils in my backpack and do my best to avoid looking back at the body. If I do, I know I will break down and cry.

My jacket is ripped at my right shoulder, right on the seam, and underneath I see an inch and a half long bloody scrape where his machete got me. Not deep, and nothing to worry about.

I put out the fire and gather my canteen and food, deciding to move a little deeper into the woods to eat. The salmon is now charred on the outside, but I scrape it off and eat the whole thing, along with the rest of the bread from the cornucopia. The fatter fish cooked perfectly and I wrap it up with the remaining pieces of dried beef in my pack. When I finish eating, I hear the hovercraft coming to recover Hawke's body.

As it lifts him from the ground, I see how bloodstained both his t-shirt and the ground are, and realize the extent of what I've done. I _killed_ him. I let the tears run down my face as his body disappears into the hovercraft. Once I've started, I can't stop. I lean against the tree and start to bawl.

Sure, he started it and he probably would have done the same if I had let him, but that does little to make me feel better. Somewhere in District 10, people grieve for him, and call for my blood the same way I did when it was Wilder.

Wilder. I remember his Games. He killed people too. His kill list was four. He killed four tributes in the arena, and I didn't mind one bit. I didn't care if he killed twenty-three tributes if that meant he would come home. I try to remember that's how my family feels, and Finnick, Merrill. I can't fall apart every time I have to kill, or I'll die. No one can win these Games without killing.

I compose myself and try to remember that I have to try and win. If I have to kill again, I will _not_ break down like this. I have to be strong.

I clutch my spear tighter and turn to head back through the woods, when I see a flash off a green jacket, grey pants and black boots. _Another_ tribute. These Gamemakers really aren't messing around. They must have seen how I just reacted to the killing and wanted to test me. Or maybe it wasn't at all. Maybe the boy from Ten had allies who are coming for me now. Either way, I'll kill them. I'll have too.

Tensing, I pull my arm back ready to throw my spear into whoever it is. I see the flash again and the tribute falls to the ground. Their foot got caught on one of the tree roots. I get ready to throw the spear.

"Please!" the tribute begs as she tries to sit up, "I wasn't with him!"

It's the girl from Eight. The one with the grey hair, who stood beside me when the Gong rang out.

Slowly, I lower my spear.


	11. The Ally

Chapter Ten:

The girl's chest rises and falls with heavy breath as she stares at me. Even from a distance, I can see the fear that's etched across her face. She knows she's in a compromising situation. Her eyes widen with concern and disbelief..

We stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of us sure of what to do, and waiting for the other to say or do _something_.

I surprised myself when I lowered my spear. I hadn't planned on doing it, it had just happened. As if my body had resolved what to do before my mind could. I couldn't kill this girl. She wasn't trying to hurt me, not like the boy from Ten. I had no choice there, it was kill or be killed. This girl was defenseless. She had tripped.

I head towards the girl. I vaguely remember her name from her reaping, Amaryllis. She's the same girl that kept me from tripping over my dress before the interviews. Her hair was expertly styled yesterday but now the two braids are loose and tasseled. Whole chunks of her grey hair hang around her face.

She instantly tenses as I approach her and I notice her back up a little. The fear has taken over her and she looks like a wild animal that's been caught in a trap. As her hand twitches, I know she's battling whether or not to fight. Same as I would. I crouch slightly and extend my left hand to help her up. I keep my spear firmly in my right hand, in case this is some sort of trick, but I doubt I'll have to use it. If this was her plan, it was a stupid one. I could have easily thrown my spear into her chest a minute ago. She hesitates, blinking at my hand. I see now her foot is still caught underneath the spindly tree root. She couldn't run even if she wanted too.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I tell her. "I promise."

"A promise doesn't mean much in the arena" she says evenly. Her eyes drift longingly behind her and I know she wants to run, but can't. She doesn't believe I won't hurt her. She must have seen what I did to the boy from Ten. I can hardly blame her for being scared of me or not believing my promises.

"It does to me," I assure her.

"I guess I don't have much of a choice but to believe you, huh?"

I shrug, "I could leave if you want, but you'll probably still be stuck under those roots."

She gives me a fleeting look and then takes my left hand. I lift her, and together we detangle her leg out from under the maze of roots.

When she's unearthed and standing on even ground, she looks to me. She makes direct eye contact, but every few seconds her eyes dart nervously to the spear in my hand.

"So," she says carefully. "What now?"

I see now that there's a thin cut on her forehead and her hands are marked up similarly. Her face looks extremely pale and her lips are bone dry. Whatever she's been up to in the last 24 hours has been rougher than what I've seen. Then again, I spent my first few hours in these Games with the Careers. I didn't have to worry about dodging the Cornucopia Bloodbath or how I'd survive my first night in the woods.

"You can leave if you want too," I tell her. "I won't follow you. You didn't try anything, and here's still a lot of us left."

"You're going to let me go?" she asks in disbelief.

"You think I _want_ to kill you?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. You're a Career. You guys usually want to win. No matter the cost."

Sometimes I forget that the other tributes don't know I'm not a traditional Career. It's not common knowledge that I fled from them the moment I could, and marked myself in the process.

"Are the rest of them coming too?" she asks, interrupting the thought, "because you might let me live but I don't have the same confidence in that red-headed friend of yours."

This girl has got nerve. It takes bravery to openly condemn a Career in front of her supposed alliance while you yourself are weaponless. I like her for it. That and she hates Garnet. I like her for that too.

"There not coming," I assure her. "I fled last night. They're probably looking for me, but they won't be joining me if that's what you mean."

She raises an eyebrow. "You _fled_? From what? You're cozy spot in the Cornucopia with _all_ those weapons and supplies? What are you stupid, Four?"

I roll my eyes. "The other careers aren't exactly my biggest fans, _Eight._ They were bound to turn on me at some point, and when I watched them practically behead the girl from Three, I figured it was a good time to go."

She blinks again and slowly shakes her head. "The girl from Three is dead?"

The cannon went off after the projections in the sky, so it makes sense she wouldn't know she was dead. I nod.

She shakes her head and then nods at my bandaged left hand. "Is that how that happened?" she asks.

The makeshift bandage on my hand has turned bloody again. The scuffle with the boy from Ten must have reopened the cut again. I didn't notice it before, but now the tiny sting is familiar. I'll have to change the dressings soon.

"No." I raise an eyebrow at her courage. "I took a knife to the hand." She purses her lips, "I'm guessing whoever did that to you is also dead."

I shake my head. "Not exactly. It was kind of an accident."

She rolls her eyes. "There are no accidents in the arena, Four."

I want to laugh. I guess they're aren't. The knife that cut my hand was meant to land in someone's flesh, just not mine.

"Are you going to go off on your own then?" she asks quickly, bringing her hand to her mouth to chew on her nails.

"I didn't exactly have much of a plan," I admit. Now that I have food and water, the two things I was worried most about. I have no idea what I was going to do next.

She weighs this over for a second. "What if we stuck together?" she suggests. "We could be allies. At least until this crowd thins a little.."

"Allies?" I repeat and she nods her head quickly.

I'd never thought about allies when preparing for the Games. The only thing I ever knew was I didn't want to join the Careers. I only did it at Finnick's insistence. At no other point did we ever talk about other alliances. I guess the thought of allies, always made me sad. At the end of the day, one of you has to die and the other person has to live with it. I thought they were pointless.

What I couldn't see coming was the intense fear and loneliness that came with Games. An ally is someone to talk too, someone to help you survive. After being with the likes of the Careers, the idea of someone I didn't have to be afraid of is an appealing idea.

I try to remember what I can about the girl in front of me, but I come up with few things. I remember she's from District Eight, and that she passed the edible plants test with flying colors, things that seemingly contradict one another. She doesn't seem intent on hurting me, and I didn't want to hurt her. That seems to be our strongest bargaining chip for an alliance, and right now, I'll take it.

"Yes.." I tell her and hold out my hand. "Allies."

She smiles and shakes it. "You're Epperly right?" I nod. "You're Amaryllis?"

"Mar," she corrects, "but yeah."

"Okay, Mar."

We stand awkwardly for a few seconds trying to figure out how our new alliance is going to work. We're not friends, but we also don't want to kill each other. That's something at least.

"Look," Mar says quickly. "We should probably get out of her. Between the smoke and the hovercraft, other tributes will know someone was here, and not everyone will be as friendly as I am."

Smart, too. I'm liking my ally better and better.

I nod in the northern direction. "Let's go that way. The stream runs north and we should stay close to it so we have food and water."

"Okay," Mar tells me and wipes at her face. Together we walk through the tree's heading north. The sun is starting set to our right and I know soon it will be dark. We'll need to figure out some sort of plan soon.

"Have you eaten yet?" I ask her. She shakes her head. I realize for the first time she might be a little older than me. That's strange, I'm used to only the volunteers being eighteen. It's really rotten luck to have your named reaped on your last eligible year.

"Do you like fish?" I ask.

"You're _so_ from District Four," she says with a small smile, " I've never had it."

"That has to be rectified," I tell her and reach into my pack. I give her half of the fatty white fish and the last strip of dried beef. Mar looks at the food so shockingly, I wonder how long it's been since she ate. She tears into the fish immediately as she walks and her eyes almost roll back into her head after the first bite.

"Good?".

She nods her head as she continues to eat. "Very. It's only been twenty-four hours and all I've had to eat is some pine nuts."

"That's it?" I ask. "You didn't leave the Cornucopia with anything?"

She gives a furious shake of her head as she moves onto the dried beef. "Nope. I didn't want to risk the bloodbath. The second the gong rang, I tore out of one of the exits."

I take the bottle of water I took from the District Ten tribute and offer it to her. She takes it graciously and continues, "I was hoping to just find some water and then scavenge whatever edible plants I could, but there isn't much in the forest besides nuts and bark. There's game too, but I don't have any weapons. I'm thinking all of the edible plants must be on the mountains, but I haven't gotten there yet."

"That reminds me," I say, "How exactly did a tribute from District Eight pass their Edible Plants test so well? I've seen pictures of your district. It's all concrete and factories, not a plant in sight."

Mar smiles wider than I've ever seen. "My parents taught me about them. They're both obsessed with nature, and they read everything they can about it. That's why they named me Amaryllis, but it's kind of a mouthful." She shoves the rest of the food into her mouth in a quick gesture.

"It must be sad for them," I say wistfully, "living in a district without any nature."

Mar shrugs, "They don't really mention it. They usually worry more about starving to death, or having their only daughter reaped for the Games." She sighs ruefully.

"I'm sorry," I tell her.

"Don't apologize," Mar says quickly. "You were reaped. This happened to you, too. The only people who should apologize is the Capitol, and maybe the people who _Volunteered for this_. This sick, twisted punishment."

I stiffen and immediately know that if the cameras were still on us and our new alliance, they have cut away immediately. There's no way the Gamemakers will let all of Panem hear Mar condemn the country or the Games. I don't disagree with her, but I know what happens next if we continue on like that.

"You don't want to talk like that here," I warn her and drop my voice to barely above a whisper. " _That's_ how you get the Gamemmakers to interfere. Do you want them to send pack of mutts after us?"

Mar's face changes immediately, her rage turning to stone cold fear at the thought of something else to face in here.

"Yeah," she shakes her head. "I guess I didn't think about that."

I shrug and Mar doesn't say anything else. Her mouth turns downward and I can tell she's thinking about something with a strange intensity. We follow the line of trees that keep us heading north, close enough to the stream that I can still hear the rushing of the water. Wherever we head, I don't want to lose that stream. Without regular access to food and water, it won't matter about the other tributes, we'll already be dead.

It gets colder the longer we walk, and I realize we'll be reaching the mountains. I don't relish the thought of how cold it will be there. The sun is already starting to set, and we need to figure out somewhere to hunker down. It's harder to protect ourselves in the open.

"We should figure out somewhere to set up camp," Mar says, mirroring my thoughts. "Something tells me more tributes will be out hunting when it's gets dark. I'm guessing being from Four you don't know how to climb those." She nods at the towering Pine trees.

I shake my head. "Nope, I wish. Have any other suggestions?"

"Not really. I haven't slept much. The little I did get last night, I curled up in a pile of pine needles and hoped no one found me," She says nonchalantly. "What about you? Were you with the Careers in the Cornucopia all night?"

"For a little while, but I left at night and slept in the maze."

"You slept _in the maze_?" Mar asks in disbelief, her eyes widening at the thought. "Why didn't you risk the Forest? It's way bigger."

"I would have," I tell her, "but I got lost in the maze. It took me almost an entire day to get out of there."

Mar blinks again, still confused. "Really? I was out of there in ten minutes, maybe less."

I stop walking and turn to stare at her. "Ten minutes?" I demand. She nods.

"How? Did your mentor send you a marker too?" I ask, feeling a little shafted that Finnick waited almost an entire day to help me leave.

"No, I just followed the turns and found an exit," she says. Then she stops, "Wait. You _already_ got a sponsor gift?"

I frown sheepishly, feeling embarrassed. "A small one, yeah. A marker to find my way out of the maze. You haven't gotten one yet?"

"No." Mar shakes her head and I start to feel guilty. Finnick must be working harder for me than I thought. If I make it out of this, I'll owe him big time.

"Well you got out of the maze so quickly you didn't really need one," I say, "I'm sure yours is coming. They're probably waiting for when you really need something."

Mar takes another sip of her water. "Before you came around, I was practically dying from dehydration. That would be a perfect time to send a sponsor gift."

She snorts. "I know I don't have any sponsors. I got a five in training, that's not exactly spectacular. I'd have to look like _you_ to get any help from the Capitol."

I roll my eyes. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is and you know it. You've either got to be beautiful, deadly or both to win this thing."

Mar isn't wrong. The people of the Capitol want to sponsor someone they can get something from. For the normal careers, it's the glory of having helped the winner. For me, it's the way I look.

"If you make it to the to the top eight, people will notice you. Then you'll get sponsors."

Mar raises an eyebrow indignantly at me, "Top Eight? Come on, Four. You and I both know that's a stretch. People won't be betting on me surviving the night."

"We're already at top ten" I remind her. "Only two more deaths, and then you'll be there."

Mar gives me a wide smile. "Are you offering?" she asks.

" _Hilarious_ ," I say rolling my eyes at her, "You should go into comedy when this whole thing is over."

She chuckles. "Worth a shot. If we don't find somewhere to bunker down for the night, the next two deaths will probably be us anyway."

I sigh, "You're right. Let's go a little right and see if we can find anywhere with a little more cover."

"A lot of cover preferably," Mar adds. "Not all of us have big, shiny spears."

I stop and reach for the knife on my hip. I haven't looked at it since I used it on the boy from ten, and can hardly stand too now. I hand it to Mar and give her the fiercest look I can muster.

"Try and use it on me and I'll shove my spear straight through your heart."

"No need to be dramatic," Mar says, taking the knife from my hand. "I'm your ally. Plus, I saw you and the boy from Ten. I won't cross you"

For some reason I can't explain, I believe her. I trust that Mar won't betray me, and I hope that thought doesn't get me killed.

She sheaths the knife on her hip and we keep walking. After a few minutes, the ground dip down a little, near a wide trunked Pine and some bushes. Strangely the ground seems to dip directly beneath the bushes. Instantly curious, I peer through them and find a tiny valley behind two of the squat fat bushes. It's barely big enough for us both, but it's pretty well hidden from all sides. You'd only know it was there if you peered behind the bushes.

"What are you doing?" Mar asks as I start to climb between the bushes. Her silvery eyebrow is raised again and I smile.

"I thought you trusted me?" I ask with a chuckle.

"I trust you not to kill me," Mar clarifies. "I have no way of knowing if you're certifiably insane."

I move the bush back and she sees the tiny valley. Her face lights up immediately.

"Oh, wow. This is kind of perfect," she says, following me. It's a little uncomfortable with both of us in there, but we're so glad to have somewhere hidden that neither of us care. We sit across from one another, with our legs pressed against our chests. It's getting so dark, I can hardly see in front of me. For a while, we say nothing. It's strange having an ally that I've chosen, but it feels like a good thing. I think of Wilder. He chose the wrong allies and it cost him. I won't make the same mistake. I trust Mar.

We nibble on a little of the fish and save the rest for morning. I'll have to go fishing again soon. With two mouths to feed now, it will require more food. I cringe at the thought of making another fire. Next time, I'll make it much farther from the stream, or maybe make more than one fire to confuse the other tributes.

"Can I ask you something?" Mar asks after a minute, drawing me out of my thoughts. It's very dark now, but I can see she looks better than she did earlier. The food and water have done wonders. Color has returned to her face and her lips no longer look cracked.

"I guess." I say quietly.

"Are you really as vapid as you seemed in your interview?" Mar asks unabashed.

My jaw falls open. I don't know whether it's the rudeness of the question or it's surprise factor that's stunned me but Mar speaks again before I can answer.

"That's kind of brash, I know." she says quickly, "but I really want to know, because in your interview and during this whole process you seemed flirty and stupid, and in the Arena you seem so…..different. Less annoying, and more capable. You killed that boy from Ten way too easily to have been _that_ useless."

I sigh. My performance in the Capitol must have been more convincing than I thought if Mar actually believed it. I know I have to be careful with how I answer. We're not alone her. The eyes of Panem and the Capitol are still on us. I can almost hear the zoom of the Cameras.

"I definitely downplayed my skills during training and the interviews," I tell her carefully, trying to convey more than I'm saying. "I didn't want the other tributes to know that I stood a chance. It was easier to just blend in with the other Careers. They gave me an advantage."

Mar seems to understand what I'm saying and nods along. "Yeah? And what about your district partner. He seemed kind of _fond_ of you."

"Kenrick?" I snort. "No. He was interested more in how I look than anything else. You should have seen how furious he was when we got the same training score." I shudder. "He probably wants me dead now anyway, I'm sure, for leaving the Careers. Not that it matters. It's a good thing he's so terrifying. The last thing I need to worry about in the arena is caring for someone."

"You think he'd want you dead?" Mar asks.

"He wants to win, so he wants all of us dead. I doubt he'd feel bad if someone got to me now."

"That's sick," Mar says with a shake of her head.

"What about your District partner?" I ask carefully. Then I remember he's dead. He died on the first night, and my stomach plummets. "Sorry, I forgot he's.." I trail off.

He was one of the ones who didn't die in the bloodbath. The one's the mystery tribute killed.

"Dead?" Mar finishes. "It's okay. We weren't close."

"Do you know what happened to him?" I ask.

Mar blinks, "I thought… I thought you and the other Careers took him out."

I shake my head. "No. It wasn't one of us. He died later. The other Careers and I had no idea who killed him or the Girl from Eleven."

Mar blinks. "Huh? I guess there's another lethal tribute out here somewhere. Maybe it's the same one that took out the boy from Nine."

The boy from Nine. That must have been the Cannon from this morning.

"What happened to the boy from Nine?" I ask. "Did you see it happen?"

Mar nods. "Yeah. Earlier today, in the morning, I was hiding out near the grass. You know that strip of clearing in between the Maze and the forest? Well the boy from Nine came stumbling out of the maze and all of a sudden there's an arrow in his chest. I guess someone was shooting from the tree's."

"I saw his blood" I tell her, as the pieces click together. "The same tribute almost took me out when I got out the maze. I didn't see a face though."

Mar frowns. "I wonder who it is. Whoever they are, they have to be pretty tough."

I sigh. Fane's theory is starting to make more and more sense. Firth killed Rex, so he's obviously lethal enough. And he's from the Lumber district, he'd easily be able to climb the tree's. It's looking possible, no matter how much I don't want it to be true.

"The other Careers, Audra from Two and Fane from One. They think it's the guy from Seven," I say, barely above a whisper. "He killed a Career during the bloodbath. Rex from Two."

"Firth?" Mar asks. "I doubt it. He didn't seem like the type to me. And didn't he use an ax anyway? I don't even think he picked up a bow and arrow during training."

I'm a little taken aback that Mar knows Firth's name and noticed so much about him during training. It makes a strange ripple in my stomach that I can't explain.

"He's from Seven. He'd have no problem climbing the trees," I reason.

The words taste foul in my mouth, and I hope they aren't true. I look at my bandaged hand and he's not the one out there radically reducing our numbers. I don't want to have gotten knifed over someone who's seems to enjoy killing so much. For some reason I thought he was different.

Mar shrugs. "Still, I doubt it's him. It's got to be someone else."

The anthem interrupts our conversation. The sound is strangely comforting. It means the end of another awful day in the arena. We sit quietly as the pictures fill the sky. First is the girl from three. I forgot how young she was. Only thirteen. Next is the boy from Nine. Then the boy from Ten.

It's a little horrifying to see his picture in the sky. I never looked too closely at him during training. Never did I think I would be responsible for his death. His face is now burned into my mind. So is his name.

Hawke Livingston, the sixteen-year-old boy I killed.

"I didn't want to kill him," I whisper. "He didn't give me any choice. He came at me."

Mar doesn't look phased at all. "Everyone's got to kill in here, Four. Without it, you can't win."

"Doesn't mean I like it," I say bitterly.

She chuckles, "If you liked the killing, you'd probably still be hanging out with the Careers."

"I guess. I feel just as bad as them."

"It's different when you're defending yourself."

"Yeah, I know."

The anthem dies out and silence fills the arena again. Every crunch of boots or snap of a twig sets me on edge. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, and a tribute to appear. I try to count off whose left. Me and Mar. The remaining Careers; Fane, Garnet, Audra and Kenrick. Firth and his district partner, the little girl. That's surprising. Good for her for lasting so long. The girl from 10. I know I'm missing someone else but I can't put a finger on it. I don't bother myself too much with it. There not a Career, so chances are high they won't make it much longer.

In front of me, Mar's eyelids droop and she looks exhausted. She needs sleep, badly, but doesn't want to be the first to fall asleep.

"You can sleep for a little while if you want. I'll be on guard and we can switch off in a few hours."

Mar looks desperately pleased. "You sure?"

"Positive."

Mar smiles and stretches out in the tiny valley, using her arm as a pillow. It's freezing, otherwise I'm sure she'd use her jacket as a blanket. I gave up a half hour ago and my jacket is zipped up to my chin, with both arms nestled safely inside. It's so frigidly miserably, I keep my teeth clenched to keep from complaining.

Why couldn't it have been a tropical arena? I love the beach.

"If you're going to murder me tonight," Mar says stifling a yawn. "Please wait until after I've fallen asleep."

I chuckle. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Four."

Authors Note: This was a VERY long chapter. Thank you for sticking it out. I really wanted to establish the alliance/ budding friendship between Epperly and Mar, and it apparently took a ton of dialouge.

ALSO thank you to those of you who have reviewed. I ADORE reviews, compliments of critiques, doesn't matter so feel free to keep them coming.

 _marvelousfics_ Thank You! Hope you liked this chapter, _crazylady;_ I am so flattered, thank you so much :), _manny61945;_ Awesome to see an SYOT face around here!


	12. The Plan

I wake Mar up several hours later and she's thrilled to find I haven't killed her in her sleep. I promise her it will stay that way if she can extend the same curtesy to me. She swears she will, and I get a few blissful hours of sleep. So far, it's the only somewhat comfortable sleep I've gotten during the Games. I know it has a lot to do with the fact that I trust Mar. I wasn't able to get even an hour of sleep with the Careers.

Mar lets me sleep longer than I intended too, and I'm grateful. It's mid-morning when my eyes finally drift open.

"Sorry," she says quickly. "I didn't think I needed to wake you. You were sleeping so peacefully. You didn't miss much. Just one cannon."

"A cannon?" I ask sleepily. "Any idea of who it us."

"None."

I frown, "It's been barely three days and we're dropping like flies."

"These Games will be over quickly," Mar agrees.

I sit up shakily and have to pluck several leaves off of my face and out of my hair. Only then do I notice that my hair has an awful smell to it. I reach for the bottom of it, and find tiny pieces of it are blackened and crumple off in my fingertips. Oh, right. The fire. I was so pre-occupied dealing with how I killed the boy from Ten, I didn't notice that I lost at least an inch of my hair. I shake it loose from the ponytail, trying to get all of the singed pieces out.

"That sucks," Mar comments from beside me.

I shrug. "It's just hair. Better it be that than my skin."

Though even as I say it, somewhere Finnick is annoyed. He would hate anything that he thinks makes me less pretty.

I fluff out as much of my hair as I can and try to make it look at least a little decent. I haven't spent much time in these Games trying to look good and I realize that might be a problem. Looking good was my interview angle after all. I should be putting in more work and making it a little easier for Finnick.

"We should probably clean ourselves up in the stream today after we get something to eat," I tell Mar. "I'm sure I look awful right about now."

Mar rolls her eyes. "Your definition of awful and mine are two very different things."

"Still," I press.

Mar agrees and we leave our tiny valley, heading for the stream. The sun is already out and it makes the cold a little more manageable. On the way there, we eat the rest of the fish from yesterday. I know eventually we should start saving some, but fish isn't like other food I had in the Capitol. It goes bad _quickly_ , and we don't have any way of treating a stomach virus in the arena. It's better where the fish is concerned, if we eat it as we get it. As long as I'm near this stream, we'll eat fine.

Mar and I are careful as we walk through the forest, keeping our eyes peeled for any sign of other tributes, but still we see none. Since I left the Careers, I've only run into Hawke and Mar. I can't help but think that's a little strange. This arena must be huge if there's nine of us still left and we aren't overlapping. The tribute I had forgotten about the day before was the Boy from District Three. Him. The Careers. District Seven's Tributes. And the Girl From Ten. I can't stop thinking about who that Cannon might have been.

Mar sits on the bank of the stream and watches as I spear a few fish the same way as Yesterday. I'm better today now that I'm fed and watered. I've only been in the water for a few minutes before I have several fat fish for us.

"No wonder you already have sponsors," Mar says wistfully as I stab the fourth fish with my spear. "I'd sponsor you too."

"Killing fish is about all I'm good at," I remind her. "The one time I did manage to kill a tribute, I broke down into hysterics. That doesn't exactly inspire confidence in my capability."

I slowly climb out of the water and set to work putting back on my shoes.

"Yeah but at least it's a skill," she says.

"If you want to learn a skill, let me show you how to clean and gut these fish. We'll need to set another fire if you want to boil the water and eat, and I don't want a repeat of what happened yesterday, so I was thinking of setting a few this time," I tell her.

"You want to leave me alone?" she asks in disbelief. "Are you insane? You must _really_ want me dead."

"I don't have to leave you by yourself if you don't want me too."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't," Mar says quickly. "I've learned my chance of surviving increases by tenfold when I'm with you."

I smile. "Fine, then pay attention while I show you how to clean this fish."

Mar and I clean and gut all three of the fish and store them in my backpack. It's started to get a fishy scent from all of this activity, but it doesn't bother me. It reminds me of all of fishing bags and nets back home at District Four.

After we finish cleaning the fish, we strip down to underclothes and clean off in the stream. We take turns so that someone can watch for waiting tributes while the other one washes off. It's bitterly cold when I submerge myself in the water but it still feels good to get all of the dirt and grease off of me. I only take a few minutes and Mar seems to be thankful. She looked a little lost with my spear in her hand.

When we're both clean, dressed and sporting wet hair, we head east and start a fire about fifteen minutes from the stream. As soon as it's lit and the smoke is pouring upward, we leave and head in a different direction. Hopefully the other tributes will check their first. We plan on making our fire in the same spot as yesterday. The spot is still charred and it's easy to light another fire. We boil the water, cook all three pieces of fish and then leave it burning. We bring our fish back to our tiny valley and have a makeshift lunch. We chat a little about home and then soon the topic changes to family. Mar speaks about her parents with such love and longing, my heart hurts.

"Do you miss your brothers?" she asks quietly as she chews on her fish.

"Of course, I do. I miss all of them. Though if I'm being honest, the one I've been thinking about most since being in the arena, is Wilder," I whisper.

Mar frowns and looks back down at the food in her hand. "That's your brother that died in the Games right?"

"Yeah."

"That's got to be really hard on you and your family. Especially now, with you here."

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from letting any tears fall from eyes. I've already cried twice since being in the arena and I refuse to be labeled 'the tribute that cries' all over Panem.

I don't say anything else and Mar takes this to mean that I don't want to talk about it anymore, and drops the subject. She's good at picking up on things like that.

We don't talk for a while and it's because we aren't talking, that I hear the footsteps.

Footsteps is the wrong word. They're not footsteps. It's a stampede of feet, walking effortlessly through the forest. Their voices follow, loud and joking. At least three of them, though it sounds like more. I realize immediately who it is. Only the Career Pack is that brazen.

I turn to Mar and hold a finger up to my mouth to make sure she says nothing. She understands. She can hear them too. We both crouch down lower into our valley so that were practically lying on the ground. I'm pretty sure the Careers won't be able to see us unless the peer behind the bushes, but we're not taking any chances. When they get closer, I start to hear the voices more clearly.

"We really need to get quicker at this. I mean we've only killed one person in the last two days and the girl from Ten this morning is hardly a score."

Fane. I recognize his voice immediately. Well, that explains who the cannon earlier was for. I feel for District Ten. I killed her District Partner the day before, and now they've lost both tributes.

"Well this is the first time we've really left the maze," Audra reminds them. "We'll have to start hunting at night too if we really want to find more tributes."

"There's only a few tributes I'm really all that concerned with finding," Kenrick says slowly. The power behind his voice is unmistakable.

"I get the boy from Seven!" Audra snaps.

Garnet sighs. "Everyone knows you want to kill Seven, Audra. Enough already."

They've come into view of the valley now. When I lean up slightly. I can see them through the bushes.

Garnet turns to Kenrick. "If you're talking about Four, Kenrick. You're going to have to fight me for her. I _really_ want to bury my mace in her skull."

"We might have to flip a coin," Fane jokes. "Or see who gets to her first. It's not as though _Epperly_ will put up much of a fight."

My blood turns cold. They're talking about killing me so callously that my stomach tightens and the fish from earlier threatens to come back up. Mar has heard every word and is looking at me with wide, concerned eyes. I turn back to watching the Careers.

"And the mystery tribute," Audra adds. "We have to find them too."  
"We will," Garnet says confidently. "Come on. Let's head East. We haven't been that way yet. That's where the fire was earlier."

It takes a few minutes for the sound of their feet and voices to disappear completely. As quietly as I can, I slink back into the valley. Somehow, I knew the Careers would eventually leave their safe haven and come looking for me, but I always thought when it happened, I wouldn't have time to think or worry about it. I assumed they'd come across me and kill me before I could even question it.

Hearing it like this, I shudder. As if I wasn't worried enough about dying in the arena, now I know four of the strongest tributes in here are actively searching for me. The thought alone is enough to make me curl up in a ball and cry.

"Epperly?" Mar whispers. "Are you okay?"

I give her a tiny nod of my head. My face feels like it's frozen into place and I've lost the ability to form words. I've never felt fear like this. When I was reaped for the Games, I thought that was the most scared I'd ever be. Most people assume it's the moment when the gong rings out. They think that's the moment tributes feel the most fear. I was way too focused then to feel any kind of fear, but now it's all I feel. This is terror. I will be murdered.

"That was…" Mar trails off. Her lip quivers for a second before she can stop it. "I mean it might not matter, right? Maybe someone will take them out first and you'll be okay."

"All four of them? Be serious, Mar. They're going to kill me."

She sighs. "You don't know that. If we're careful, they might never find you."

It's kind that she's trying to ease my fear, but we both know it's useless. The words she's saying are nothing but softly covered lies.

"The Games have a way of drawing us together," I tell her. "They're going to find me one way or the other."

The Games have nothing to do with it, the _Gamemakers_ do, but saying that on television will not do anything other than piss them off.

"Look, they can't kill everyone off because than it will be only them," Mar reminds me. "We have to radically reduce the number of tributes. If the numbers start to get low enough, the Careers will have to split up and it will make it harder for them to kill you."

"Yeah and how do you suppose we do that, Mar? I'm not tracking down innocent tributes to kill to save _my_ life."

"What if you didn't have too?" she asks. "We don't have to kill innocent tributes. We can kill _Careers._ "

I snort. "Do you hear yourself? Those Careers are trained. They can kill. We can't take them."

"We can't take all of them at once," Mar points out. "But there's two of us. We could take one of them. What if we catch them off guard? They can't always travel in that pack. One of them has to wait behind some of the time."

"So?" I ask. "How do you propose we find one singular tribute by themselves."

Mar smiles deviously. "The maze. I know that thing like the back of my hand. I got out in _ten minutes_ , and that was without a marker! You and I could wait in the maze, near one of the exits to the clearing. Eventually, we'll find one by themselves, and _you_ can take them out."

"You say that like taking out a Career is any easy thing. I barely managed to kill the boy from Ten. And I broke down when I did it," I remind her.

"They're going to kill you, Epperly," Mar says firmly. "Not quickly, either. Do you want that? You and I both know that I have no chance at winning this thing, but you? You have a decent chance. Not like this, though. You can't stumble around and hide in the forest while a pack of lethal killer searches every tree for you. You have to fight back too. Nobody wins these Games by hiding in a valley."

Mar's speech is so out of the blue that it shocks me. I stare at her hardened face for a moment trying to decide if I'm horrified, impressed or saddened by her words.

"We have to try," she begs. "I don't want to sit here and wait to get brutally murdered."

I sigh. "Mar, I don't know…"

"What if we go to the maze tonight anyway. We can take a look, watch them for a little bit and if we don't like what we see, we go, okay?"

She's desperate and I don't know what to say. There's no harm in at least seeing what the Career's set up is like. At the very least it might give us some information on how to _avoid_ them.

"Fine. We'll go tonight. But if we're doing this we need to make sure we're prepared, Okay? That means showing you how to use that knife."

Mar grins. "Deal."

She busies herself with packing up the rest of our food and water and dividing it between our two packs, while I try to prepare myself for what we're about to do. The Games aren't just about defending yourself. If you want to win, you have to make offensive plays too.

Mar may think she isn't capable of winning the Games, but I would have never thought of a plan like this. I was content to hid in the valley.

I may have been the one who's killed a tribute, but Mar is the one whose thinking like a victor.


	13. The Real First Kill

I seem to be much more nervous than Mar is about this plan. For someone whose too terrified to even be in the woods without me, she's pretty eager to go charging into the den of the Careers.

I know it's because Mar has too much confidence in both of us. Me especially. She thinks she knows the Maze well enough that we'll be able to get in and out quickly. She thinks I'm strong enough that if we come across any other tributes, even Careers, that I'll be able to take them down. I'm not as confident as she is about that.

We both get a little more sleep in the afternoon, comfortable enough hidden in our valley that we don't think anyone else will come across us. We need to be well rested if we plan on stalking the Careers tonight.

When we wake up, I fish again. The coals from the fires earlier are still warm and though it takes ten times as long, it cooks the fish. I want to be well stocked on food and water if we're wandering away from the precious stream. For some reason, every single fiber of my being thinks this plan is a bad idea, but I can't argue that it makes sense.

Both Mar and I eat a small dinner and then before the sun sets, I lead her over to a wide-trunked pine and show her how to properly throw knives.

"I want you to be able to at least defend yourself if something happens to me," I tell her.

Mar frowns, "Yeah. That makes sense, I guess." She looks horrified at the idea of being left alone, but I can't deny it's a possibility. She has to learn to defend herself.

We practice throwing the knives at tree trunks, and then at pinecones I throw in the air for her. She's terrible at it at first, but the longer she practices, the better she gets.

I practice a little with my spear too, while she throws the knives. When I was little, before Wilder's death. Byron, Tucker and I used to 'play' Hunger Games on the beach. One of us would pick up a heavy wooden driftwood branch and pretend to spear the other's chest with it.

Zale never played with us. I guess he was old enough at that point to understand what we were doing wasn't a game. That, or he knew he'd be crucified by my parents if he sat around while we played with pointy sticks that would surely take our eyes out.

But the rest of us? We did this every day all summer and we got really good at it. I used to spin the branches over my head, around my arms and catch them with my eyes closed. We stopped playing after Wilder died. At first, I didn't understand why my brothers stopped playing our favorite game, or why my parents cringed if I asked about it at the dinner table. As I got older, I learned and I never played with the sticks again.

But muscle memory is stronger than I gave it credit for. I was sure after ten years I would have forgotten, but as I spin the heavy metal spear around one-handed, I realize I'm just as good with it now as I was with the sticks back then.

I twist the spear over my head and throw it ten feet, watching its head stab into the base of one of the pines, landing exactly where it wanted too.

"You ready, Killer?" Mar asks, "or do you want a few more minutes by yourself?"

I stiffen at her choice of words and Mars face falls. "Sorry, that was kind of inappropriate considering. I forgot about the boy from Ten for a second. It was stupid."

I shake my head. "It's okay, Mar. You were making a joke. It's not your fault I killed someone."

Mar gives a nervous laugh. "Still. I could have been a little more choosey with my words."

I look to where her knife is lodged in the tree trunk and pull it out for her.

"Congratulations," I tell her, handing it back to her. "You just murdered that tree. Try that on a Career and you just might be joining me in the rank of killers."

"From your lips to the Gamemaker's ears," Mar jokes.

I smile, "Come on, let's start heading towards the maze."

Mar and I decided earlier in the day that easiest way in and out of the Maze is the exits by the grassy plains. She says that's the way that's the quickest. I didn't love the idea. Whoever the tribute was who was lurking in those trees with the bow and arrow might still be there. We're going to have to be _very_ careful. My spear and Mar's knife won't do much against an arrow flying through the sky.

Then again, as far as deaths go that isn't the worst one. It's quick and you never know who did it. Something about that is a whole new kind of frustrating. I'm hell bent on finding out who this mystery murderous tribute is. It could have been the girl from Ten, technically. The Careers killed her yesterday and there haven't been any more deaths since. Still, something tells me that's not the case. The girl from Ten was tiny, and frail. Not a killer.

The boy from Three is still alive too, but he's young. Fifteen maybe? I doubt it's him. The twelve-year-old girl from Seven also is unlikely. Although, if it is her, I'm really impressed. She would probably deserve to win if it were. I sigh. Firth is looking more and more like the likely candidate. That infuriates me. I never thought he would do something like that.

I should have let Kenrick kill him on the first day. How many other people would be alive if I had? The cut on my hand throbs at the thought.

It takes about an hour to get from our little valley to the grassy clearing. It's dark by the time we get there, and I don't know if the night will conceal us or disorient us. We stop when we reach the break between the forest and the grassy plain. From the forest line, we can see two entrances into the maze.

"The left one," Mar whispers.

"What do you think are the chances we'll run into bow and arrow tribute?" I ask her.

Mar shrugs, "I don't know. They could be dead. I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

I sigh, "Yeah, I guess if one of us gets an arrow to the head, we'll know."

"What a cheery thought," Mar chuckles.

I focus myself on the entrance to the maze. "Okay, on three we run." I tell her. She nods quickly, and I see her brace herself, leaning forward the way she did on the metal plate at the start of the Games. Her eyes lock on the entrance and I know she's ready.

I brace myself too, taking in a deep breath. "One…two….three."

Neither of us hesitate. We both take off for the exit at full sprints. Mar's a little quicker than me and I stare at the back of her head as we barrel across the grass. No arrows seem to be coming, so it's either too dark for the tribute to see us, or they've moved on. For some reason, I really don't think they've died, but I have nothing to back that up. It's just a feeling.

When we reach the entrance, both Mar and I slam into the stone wall and almost collapse on the floor.

"No arrows," Mar pants.

"Lucky us," I say between breaths.

I manage to get to my feet and so does Mar. The second she stands, she scans the maze. Her eyes move back and forth so quickly, it looks almost like she's having some kind of seizure.

"Okay," she whispers quietly. "I know where we are. We have to make two rights then a left."

I blink at her in disbelief. "How? How do you know that?"

"District Eight" Mar answers quickly, following the line of the wall closest to us. "All of the District, and especially the factories in it, are exactly like this. Compared to the hallways in the basements at home, this is child's play."

"You realize how impressive that is right?" I tell her as I follow her. "This makes my fishing look like a party game."

Mar rolls her eyes. "The only thing knowledge of the maze helped me with was get out during the bloodbath."

"Yeah, but that kept you _alive_."

She makes an immediate right turn and keeps walking. I manage to catch up to her, and walk alongside her. From our left, outside of the maze, we hear a sharp, young scream.

Both Mar and I stop and listen. There's only one person in this arena that scream could have belonged too.

A cannon fires.

"The girl from Seven," I whisper softly. "She was only twelve."

Mar's face is stoic and unreadable. When she does speak, it doesn't reach her eyes. "Top Eight," she says quietly.

I shudder. Top Eight. That means camera crews will descend on our homes tomorrow. Once again, my family will be forced to endure Capitol announcers and television personalities invading our district to ask probing questions about Wilder, his death, me, and my new talent of murdering children on television.

"It's either the Careers or the Mystery tribute," Mar says. "If it's the Careers, they definitely left someone behind to keep their stuff safe. We'll be able to spy on them easily."

"Come on," I nudge her in the shoulder. "Let's keep moving."

We keep walking, and I follow Mar's every move and turn. It only goes on for five minutes and then she stops abruptly. In front of us, about ten feet ahead is the opening to the clearing.

Mar holds her finger to her mouth, and slowly we both creep towards it. She darts across it first and stops. We're both on either side of it now. And slowly, we crouch down and peer through it.

The clearing is basically empty. All of the supplies that were stacked around the last time I was here, is either gone or shoved into the Cornucopia.

There is only one person here. A tiny shape is sitting cross legged in the middle of the clearing with their back to us. It's Audra, I recognize her choppy haircut immediately.

Mar and I look to each other with wide eyes, and then turn back to watching Audra. She's eating. I can't tell what it is from here but it looks like some kind of wild game. She doesn't have her silver bow and arrow anymore. Instead, she clutches a long, wide machete. I wonder where her bow went? Did Firth manage to get it off of her? It seems unlikely there's _another_ bow and arrow in the arena, so he must have. I would have paid money to see how that went down. I realize then that the people of the Capitol saw it. They see everything. They know who the mystery tribute is. The watch all of the deaths. They get to know everything we wish we could see before we die, and they get to know it the whole time. That's the beauty and the horror of the Games.

I don't know what to do now. Audra is clearly by herself, but that doesn't do much for us. I still can't take her, even if Mar managed to help. Chances are, she'd injure or kill us both, and if the others got back before we were dead…. I shudder thinking of the elongated and bloody death Garnet surely has planned for me.

I look to Mar, trying to signal to her that this is dangerous and we should leave. She can't see me; her eyes are locked on Audra. In one quick motion, she moves into the entrance of the clearing. I reach for her, thinking she's gone insane but she's already out of my grasp.

My instincts tell me to run, to leave her. She has to be crazy, to incite Audra like this, but I don't move to run. She's my ally. Crazy or not, I can't leave her.

"HEY!" she shouts loudly into the clearing. Audra looks up quickly and her eyes light up at the possibility of her own kill.

Mar's quick. Just as Audra gets to her feet, she darts back into the maze and grabs my wrist dragging me away from the entrance.

"Are you insane?" I hiss at her as we run. "We were supposed to just watch!"

Mar says nothing. She just keeps running through the maze. We're inches from the exit when the machete whizzes over Mar's head, narrowly missing her skull.

Audra is standing feet behind us, a creepy smile stretching across her thin lips. "Good to see you Epperly," She croons. "Or should I say? It's going to be good to see you, _die._ "

She's covered in dried blood and in her right hand is one of Kenrick's throwing knifes. The thin kind that glides through the air so easily, even unskilled tributes can hit the target.

We can't outrun a knife like that. We don't have the time. It's fight or flight, and fight is the only option. The spear slides down further in my hand and I point it just as Audra comes flying at me.

Mar ducks out of the way just in time, and Audra slams into me, knocking me backward into the wall of the maze.

"Run!" I roar at Mar, but she doesn't move. I shove my spear forward, but I miss where I was aiming and it lands so far to the right of Audra's stomach, I know it's not lethal. It's a flesh wound. Audra roars and tries to shove the knife into my head. I grab her arm and it takes all of the force I have to hold the knife away from me.

"You know," she says panting as she exerts all of her strength on trying to shove the knife towards me. "I did promise the others I'd let them kill you, but here we are. I guess they'll have to forgive me later."

She's stronger than me. The tip of it pierces the skin on my cheek and I let out a deep scream.

It's getting harder to keep her arm away, I'm going to lose and she's going to stab me in the face.

Audra's strength slacks and she stumbles, letting out a piercing scream. The knife goes into the wall behind me instead of my face. I see Mar's knife sticking halfway out of Audra's shoulder. Mar stabbed her.

It's not a lethal wound, but it distracted Audra. I pull my spear out of her side and shove it forward as fast I can. It lodges in her throat. She only has time for her eyes to widen, before she's gurgling blood and falls to the ground.

"Say I to Rex for me in hell," I snap, standing over her. She tries to speak, but I can't understand what she's saying around all of the gurgling blood. Eventually she stops trying.

The cannon fires quickly, and I know it's over. Audra is dead. Mar and I have killed a Career. I turn and find my ally standing behind me, horrified. I don't whether it was the sight of what I just did to Audra or her involvement that has her so scared, but I reach out to touch her arm.

"Are you okay?" I ask her. She nods her head quickly. "Yeah, that was just intense."

She reaches down to pick up Audra's knife from the ground and clutches it tightly in her hand. Then she picks up hers.

"Do you want to tell me what the hell you thought you were doing?" I demand. "We we're supposed to be watching them. Not inciting a fight!"

Mar is still shaking. She's terrified.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly. "I don't know what I was thinking. We were just there and she was all alone, and I knew you could take her, and all of a sudden, I was doing it. I don't know what happened."

I cross my arms. "That wasn't your choice to make. She could have killed me."

Mar's eyes fill with tears and her bottom lip quivers. "I'm sorry. It was stupid."

She looks so pitiful, I can't stay mad. I sigh. "It's fine, just don't do it again, okay?" She nods quickly.

"We should get out of her before the Hovercraft comes. We can figure out another plan in the morning."

Mar nods and I head out of the maze and back into the clearing ahead of her. It's almost pitch black now, but there's a substantial amount of light coming from the giant orb of a moon in the sky. I turn to the left to look at it, when I feel the arrow pierce my left shoulder.

The pain is immediate and I crumple to the ground. My hand reaches out to grab it, and I find it's not an arrow. It's a throwing knife.

It couldn't have been an arrow anyway. It came from behind me, not in front of me. The pieces click together and I only have a second to turn around before I see Mar tackle me, clutching Audra's knife.

Mar is in top of me so quickly I'm stunned. Her face is lit with a kind of rage and fury I've never seen on her before. I fall backward and I can feel the knife embed deeper into my shoulder. The pain causes me to cry out and Mar slashes the knife through the air aiming for my throat.

Mar is trying to kill me.

I reach my right hand up and grab her right arm, holding the knife up and away from me. Her knees come down to pin my legs to the ground. My left hand is still stretching across the grass, trying desperately to reach my spear.

"What are you doing?" I roar at her. The knife is still stabbing deeper into my shoulder and it's making tears form in my eyes. Slowly they drip down my cheeks.

Mar's lips are pulled into a tight line and I can tell she's using every ounce of her strength to try and push the knife down into my chest. She's trying to kill me.

"There can only be one winner, Epperly" she snaps through clenched teeth. "I wish I didn't have to do this."

She gives another shove of the knife. She gains an inch and the knife gets closer to my chest. I scream and use all of my strength to lift the knife away from me. Mar snarls and tries to shove it down again. Her eyes are hard as steel.

My ally is a traitorous bitch.

I stop trying for my spear and use my left hand to shove her head back as far as I can. She grunts loudly and tries to force my hand back. She tries to shove the knife deeper and I can feel my strength faltering. She has the upper hand. The pain in my shoulder is blinding and I know I only have seconds. Mar _will_ kill me.

I stretch my left hand as far as it will go, and shove my thumb into Mar's eye. She lets out a horrific screech and reaches for her eye. I yank my thumb back as fast as I can and use every ounce of my force to shove her off of me. She falls to the ground and I stumble upward onto my knees.

Mar recovers quickly, and gets on her knees. Her left hand is covering her injured eye, but the other still clutches her knife. She narrows in on me and drops her hands. Her eyes is gruesomely enlarged, and a trail of blood leaks from the socket. From the look, she gives me, she wants to finish me off and dives toward me.

My spear is too far to reach. I only have one option if I don't want to die at Mar's hands. I grit my teeth and reach behind me, ripping the knife from my shoulder. It was in there pretty deep and there's a horrific pain as it tears from the flesh. I have just enough time to grip it before Mar comes at me. She slices her knife against my forearm and I shove mine into her chest.

Mar lets out a tiny little squeak and stares down at the knife. Her body instantly goes slack and I shove her off of me. She lands on her back, staring up at the sky. Carefully, I see one of her tiny hands trying to pull the knife out, but eventually she gives up and lets her hand fall to the grass. She's crying now and her arms and legs are wide at her sides. A dark puddle of blood forms underneath her and spreads across the front of her shirt.

"Why?" I demand shrilly, standing over her. I hadn't realized I was crying but tears are pouring down my face now. They're coming so fast I couldn't stop them if I wanted too. Whether they're from the physical pain of my shoulder or from the emotional pain, I don't know.

Mar's chest starts to thrust forward and her face shakes. "I don't know." She whimpers. I can barely hear her now. "Bbbbetter….you….thhhan….me."

Her chest continues to shake and I don't think I can handle anymore. I pick up my spear from the ground and let my eyes shut close. I don't watch as I press it through the base in her skull. I don't want to watch her take her last breath.

Another cannon goes off.

Two cannons have gone off in the last ten minutes. Both were because of me. First my enemy, and then my ally. I've killed two people today.

The only thing I can think, is that there are only six tributes left.


	14. The Reunion

Chapter Fourteen:

I'm shaking. I've has been reduced to a fit of violent sobs, and as each one rips through my body, the shaking gets worse. Somehow, I manage to wipe at my eyes and control myself enough to pick up my spear and the other knife. I leave the one that's still buried in Mar's body. I want the hovercraft to take that as far away as possible.

I don't have time to feel anything now, as much as I want too. I rip Mar's backpack off of her and head for the forest. Two cannons have gone off and Mar and I haven't been quiet. Other tributes are bound to have heard our scuffle. I don't have it in me for another fight right now. I barely have it in me to live.

I tear through the forest at a slow jog, not sure where to go now. The idea of the valley seems terrible. I don't want to go there, that was the place I slept beside a traitor.

I still can't believe she betrayed me. I can't believe I was stupid enough to trust her. Hell, _I'm_ the one who taught her how to throw knives. At the time, I didn't think she'd use that skill _on me_. I trusted her.

After a few minutes of walking, I slump down against a pine tree trunk. The base of it is wide and there's a bush on one side, leaving only one side of me exposed. I suppose this is as good as it gets for now. The pain in my shoulder is so unbearable that I can't move anymore, but I'm too scared to look at it. I don't want to see how bad it is. From the dark scarlet stain on my jacket, I'm sure it isn't good. I'm also covered in Audra and Mar's blood. I must look truly terrifying. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe any tribute that comes across me now will be too intimidated to mess with me. Somehow, I doubt that though. If they've managed to make it to the top six, they're probably pretty lethal themselves.

Now that I'm alone, I bawl. I can't believe what just happened. My ally betrayed me. I trusted Mar, and she literally _stabbed me in the back._

It's actually ironic, I'm the second Steelstrom in this arena to be betrayed by allies. I wonder if the Capitol finds this funny? I was so sure the Careers would betray me, that I never thought to worry about someone like Mar.

The Games change people. I always knew that, but seeing it in person is something else entirely. I have to believe Mar wasn't like this before the Games. The alternative is too horrible.

I bring my knees to my chest and cry. I only stop when I see a parachute floating down towards me. It drifts carefully through the branches of the pines and lands a few feet ahead of me.

My shoulder hurts so bad I practically have to crawl over to it to retrieve it. When I pop it open, I see that it's a first aid kit; full of alcohol, gauze, bandages, ointment and little orange pain killers.

I actually let out a little moan at the sight of them. This is an expensive sponsor gift.

"Thank you," I whimper to the sky. "Thank you so much."

Slowly, and gritting my teeth from the pain. I strip off my jacket and shirt and examine the wound. It's still bleeding and I dig my nails into the ground as I slowly uncap the alcohol and pour it over the cut. It stings so badly I almost scream. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. Still shaking, I dab some of the fancy capitol ointment across the cut and press the gauze to it, applying pressure. I wrap the bandages around it and secure it tightly.

I've seen this Capitol ointment in action in previous Games. It's supposed to work wonders. I really hope it does because the throbbing pain is making my eyes weak. I take out two of the orange pills and swallow them with some water. I don't want to eat, but I force myself to eat some of the fish. Taking these pills without food, won't help me.

At the last minute, I rub a little of the ointment across the cut on my hand and on my cheek. I can't but help notice how many scrapes I have on my body now. Year and Years of playing with fishing hooks and Spears in District four and I barely got a scratch, but four days in the arena and I've bled more than I ever have before.

When I finish eating, I move Mar's supplies and my new sponsor gifts to my backpack. I still have two whole fish and one and a half bottles of water left. I should be good for a while, so I just stay sitting by the pine tree. So much has happened in the last few days that I'm emotionally drained. I don't know how people last weeks in the arena. I can only hope, one way or another, these Games end soon.

When the anthem plays tonight, I see Audra's face first. Even from here, she looks menacing. The next face is Iria, the little girl from Seven, followed by Mar. I can't look at Mar's face yet. It's still too painful.

Instead I think of the living tributes; Fane, Garnet, Kenrick, Firth and the boy from Three. Two girls and four boys, not uncommon for this stage in the Games. I have to say it's pretty shocking that I've lasted this long. I doubted I'd even make it to the top eight, and now here I am.

Then again, I am not the same person who entered this arena. I've killed people in here. Three of them. They always say good people never win the Games, and I guess it's true. It almost doesn't matter who you were before you entered the arena. Being in here and being forced to kill, will change you.

I rest my head down on the tree and close my eyes. I'm too emotionally exhausted to even consider finding somewhere else to sleep. If the Gamemakers want to bring another tribute my way, then so be it. I've already killed three of them. What's one more? As my eyes drift close, I can't help but hope it's Garnet.

It's the dull pain my shoulder that wakes me up the next day. I wake up sitting in exactly the same position as I fell asleep. The sky in front of me is still kind of dark. The sun hasn't fully risen yet.

Very, carefully I examine my wound under the bandage. It's a hundred times better than it was before. It looks way shallower than it did yesterday, so I put more of the ointment on it and hope that after a few more applications it should be healed enough that it won't become an issue, or get infected. The wound on my cheek has closed up, and the cut across my palm is not an angry red line, but it's no longer bleeding. My sponsors have been good to me. If I ever get out of this stupid arena, I'll owe Finnick my life ten times over.

I don't get up right away. I lounge on the ground for a few hours, snacking on bits of fish and watching the sun rise. I stay sitting like that until my legs start to feel numb and I have to get up and stretch them.

I don't head back towards the direction of the stream, instead I search the other side of the forest. The one I haven't wandered around much yet. After a few hours, I find a tiny pond full off fat, squishy fish. I spear one or two, mostly out of boredom and shove them into my bag to cook later.

For awhile, I'm mostly bored. I haven't had any problems keeping myself fed and watered in the arena, so that hasn't taken up a lot of my days like I'm sure it has for some of the other tributes, and I haven't run the risk of needing to defend myself since last night. It's lonely and boring without anyone to talk too and I find myself missing my ally. When Mar was around, this whole thing was more fun.

I try not to think about that too much. It's bad enough that she'd dead. That _I_ had to kill her. I'm not going to let myself miss her too.

After about half the day of wandering around and eating until I feel too full, I'm extremely bored. I keep wandering around the forest trying to get familiar with as much of it as I can. Eventually, maybe tomorrow, I'll probably move to the mountains. I will go actually insane if I have to spend any more time wandering the forest by myself. Part of me wishes I could climb the pines trees. That at least would give me something to do, and keep me hidden from whoever's still lingering in the Forest.

The Careers have no doubt split up by now. Every year, they usually do by top eight. And now with only six tributes left, a mystery tribute stalking them in the woods, and Audra dead, they've surely separated. After all, there really can only be one winner.

By afternoon, I am simply wandering around the forest. Eventually, I come across a dip in the ground and I stop to survey what's below me. The ground is lower here and covered with shorter pine tree's. The branches are lower here and I could probably climb them if I wanted too, if it weren't for the hundreds of twig branches lining them. It's some kind of bird's den.

I see flashes of hundreds of them across the den. They're the colorful pink birds I saw flying overhead the first day in the maze.

They seem to have spotted me, a few of them fly up to the high ground and flutter around me. They're exquisite, with their pink feathers and their long, skinny beaks.

 _Ow!_ One of the birds let out a high pitched screech and stabbed me in the forearm with its beaks. The other's followed and soon three of them pinch with me their razor-sharp beaks.

Mutts.

They're hovering now, and I start to run backward, swatting them away with my spear. More and more of them show up with their hideous screeching and pointed mouths, ready to sink into my flesh. After four puncture wounds, I have no choice but to take off running. The birds follow me, their colorful wings flapping as they screech.

They're fast and I'm too slow to keep more than a foot of distance between us. The faster ones try to pierce my hands as I tear through the forest, trying to jump and skip over the pinecones and overturned roots. Eventually they birds stop abruptly, just as I cross through a thicket of trees and into a small circular clearing. They stopped so quickly and so precisely at the line of the clearing that I know they were ordered to stop.

There's a massive stone rock in the clearing and I lean against it, catching my breath for a second. Those birds weren't acting on their own, if they were they would have kept chasing me until the caught me. Animals don't leave their prey when the walk into a clearing.

Gamemakers made them chase me, and when I look up and see a pair of eyes at the other edge of the clearing line, I know why.

It's been almost an entire day since I killed Mar and Audra, the Gamemakers were trying to see if I'm just lucky or I am actually lethal. That's why they drew to straight to another tribute.

"Epperly," he says evenly, his eyes sparkling menacingly. His face is full of excitement. This is his lucky day. He's been waiting for this moment for a while, and I can tell.

I take in a deep breath and my legs lock in fear.

"Hello, Kenrick," I say.


	15. The Save

Chapter Fifteen:

The Gamemakers obviously do not want me to win this thing. They are obviously irritated that a tribute who wasn't a favorite to win has lasted so long in this arena. I've been lucky, and they want to remind me that my luck's run out. Why else would they lead me directly into the arms of arguably the strongest tribute here. The who already harbors a vendetta against me. The one I've already angered.

Then I remember, this is a television show. The Gamemakers have to give the audience exactly what they want. Clearly a showdown between me and Kenrick is what they want. This is the hidden drama of these games, and now that we're down to six tributes they want to see how it plays out.

Kenrick breaks out into a wide smile. "It's been awhile since I've seen you."

Once again, I'm at an impasse, with Kenrick. My only choices are run or fight, and I immediately know it's not much of a choice. I can't run. If I run, he'll chase me and he will win. My only option is to be as nice as I can and then fight. I have to try and kill him. There's a chance I could win. Granted, it's a slim chance, but still I don't want an another knife in the back.

"It has," I agree. I try as hard as I can to keep my voice from cracking.

"I've been looking for you," he says in an unreadable tone. Whether or not he's imagining my death is unclear.

"Have you?" I ask casually. I'm sure by now he can hear the nerves in my voice.

He nods. "Yes, for days now." The smile he gives me is not comforting.

Kenrick takes a step towards me and involuntarily I take one back. He notices and lets out a tiny chuckle.

"You know," he says lightly. "I really should have known I couldn't trust you the moment you stopped me from killing the boy from Seven. That was the first time I realized the little show you were putting on in the Capitol."

I swallow hard. Kenrick's realized everything then. That I'm not as weak as I appeared, and that I was purposefully nice to him only to survive. This is not going to end well. I decide to try and reason with him. The only way I can win is to deescalate this situation. I can't beat a fully enraged Kenrick.

"I had to," I tell him, trying to sound desperate, trying to grip my spear tighter in my hand. "I had to have an angle for the arena, or I wouldn't have survived."

Kenrick's eyes narrow. "You could have stayed with us, _that_ would have kept you alive."

"Until Garnet buried a mace in my head," I remind him.

"Maybe she should have," Kenrick snaps, and I realize how angry he is.

He's already taken two steps closer towards me. I grip my spear tighter. He has a thick knife in one hand and I can see his throwing stars secured on his belt. I've seen how far those can travel through the air, and they always end up embedded in someone's flesh. Playing weak and nice won't help me now. I decide to take another tactic. I hold my spear up and in position.

"I killed Audra," I say firmly. "I lodged my spear in her throat."

"Doesn't surprise me," Kenrick says. "You would target the only Career weaker than you."

One of his arm muscles twitch and I immediately know how stupid it was of me to try anything. Even if I managed to get my spear into him, he's big and strong enough that he could probably keep fighting enough to kill me too.

I have to run. I have no choice. Fear overtakes me, and I turn and head for the woods, but Kenrick is faster than I give him credit for and before I've even made it out of the clearing, he's grabbed the hood and my jacket and slammed me to the ground. I try to spin around and shove my spear at him, but it rips if from my arms and throws it away. Terrified, I try to crawl away.

Kenrick drags me back by my legs.

"I'm not letting you go a second time, Epperly" he chuckles darkly. "Nope. I'm going to finish you off here and now."

Kenrick flips me so that I'm on my back and uses his legs to pin me down, holding my arms above my head with one of his hands.

I try to kick and flail, but his weight is enough to keep me down. Did he have to be so massive?

Kenrick draws his knife and lightly drags the tip of it across my lips. I try to turn away from it but he forces my head steady and keeps doing it over and over.

"I really thought you and I could be allies," he whispers against me ear. "It's a shame you had to be so unruly."

Kenrick clicks his tongue in remorse. "If you had just stayed with the rest of the Careers, you and I could have a had some fun times in this arena, but no instead you had to be a little bitch about it, and now? You're going to die for it."

"The rest of the District will hate you," I snap, still struggling under his weight. "No one kills their District partner unless they have too. You'll be a pariah!"

Very rarely in these Games do District partners ever face one another this close to the end of the Games. Tributes usually don't want to be the ones to have to kill their partners. It makes it really hard to go home to the District when you have to look at the family of the kid you've slaughtered.

"I'll be a _victor_ ," Kenrick corrects me. "And you're right, I don't _have_ to kill you. I want too."

Suddenly, when I see the gleam in his eyes, I know what's motivating Kenrick. Killing me is about more than taking out a tribute. I've hurt Kenrick's pride on a deeper level. This is personal. From the moment we were reaped, everyone has preferred me to him. Finnick chose me. The Capitol fawned over me during the tribute parade. We even got the same training score, something I know he thought impossible. He hated me because he was jealous. I hadn't worked half as hard as he had for the Games, and I was the one benefitting. The only way to fix his bruised ego was for him to convince himself, that I wanted him. That's why he kissed me in the tribute center. Why he wanted to ally himself with me in the Games. If I was a prize to be won instead of a real competitor, then Kenrick could win me. There would be nothing to be jealous of if he _had_ me. But I had ruined that. I stopped him from killing one of the stronger competitors and I openly rejected him by fleeing the moment I could.

Kenrick isn't murdering me to win. Kenrick is killing me because he hates me.

I know he plans on killing me, and I know he will succeed, but that isn't going to stop me from hurting him as much as I can before I go.

"You won't win," I snap at him. "You've got to do more than kill people to win these Games. You have to be smart. You don't have what it takes. That's why you want to kill me so desperately."

Kenrick's eyes narrow into slits and picks up a rock beside him. I know what he's going to do a second before it happens but it still doesn't prepare me, when he slams the rock down hard against the side of my head. The result is a pounding, throbbing pain that stops me in my tracks. I can feel a trickle of blood at my hairline, but the pain is too strong for me to be able to tell how serious it is. It's so blinding I stop fighting.

"You know what Epperly?" Kenrick asks, stroking my face again with the knife. "I am going to kill you, but _after_. I can think of a few other ways this might be a little more fun first. With a pretty little face and body like yours, maybe we should try Yulvan's strategy?"

Somehow even through the pain, my entire body goes cold with fear. It's one thing to kill someone to win. But to violate them first? No, I can't let that happen. I can't let my family watch that.

Kenrick grins, realizing he's found my weakness. Just killing me wasn't going to break me, but this definitely will. This is the reason no one volunteered this year. This is every female tribute's worst fear. I scream and kick as he reaches to undo my belt.

I can't let this happen. I won't. I scream and thrash underneath him, trying desperately to get him off of me. I don't even care if he kills me now, but I won't let him do _this._

"It'll be much more fun if you don't struggle," Kenrick chuckles.

Tears are streaked down my face as I continue to try and fight him off. I'm going to die exactly the way I didn't want too. I should have let Audra kill me. Even torture would be better than this.

I'm about to close my eyes and let it happen, when I see something slice through the air and slam into the side of Kenrick's neck. It takes a second, but then Kenrick stops as blood pours from his throat and slumps off of me onto the ground.

Buried in his neck, is an axe.


	16. The District Seven Tribute

Chapter Sixteen:

Stunned. That's the only way to describe what I am feeling. I am stunned.

A cannon rings out in the distance and Kenrick's massive form slumps down into the dirt beside me. Moments before, this was the person who was going to deliver my tortured, prolonged death, and now he's dead. Someone slit his throat, with an axe.

I know who it is before my eyes even have a second to dart upwards. There's only one person left who wields an ax in this arena.

"Firth," I whisper.

Firth is still clutching the ax in his right hand, with a manic look in his abnormally blue eyes. He's panting, making me wonder exactly how heavy that axe is or with how much force he slammed it against Kenrick. Either way, it seems to have taken a little bit of out of him.

This is the first look I've gotten at him since the incident with Kenrick's knife. My left-hand tingles at the thought of it. That was the moment I spared Firth. The favor that from the looks of it is clearly going to be repaid with death. God, how stupid was I? I should have let Kenrick kill him.

Firth has clearly been up to something in the arena. His dark wavy hair is tousled and dirty. His face is scraped up and one deep cut in his cheek is bleeding pretty profusely. I notice he's not wearing his arena jacket, and his toned, tan arms are exposed. I wonder if he lost the jacket or is just better used to the weather than I am. He is from seven. I remember learning in school that it's colder there than in Four. He must be used it to a little.

He has another healing gash on his ax-wielding arm. It's too sharp and perfect to have occurred from anything other than a knife or a sword. Another tribute has wounded him. I wonder if they made it out alive, and then I remember how dangerous he is. No, there's no way that tribute survived. Firth looks quickly from Kenrick's body to me.

A fresh kind of fear rears itself as I look at Firth with the ax. Any hesitation I had before about whether or not he was the mystery tribute is now long gone. It's definitely him. I was stupid to think otherwise. No one can kill that viciously without practice. Firth is in this arena to win. He just killed arguably the toughest tribute we had in the arena, and now his eyes are zeroing in on me.

He's going to kill me. He stopped Kenrick so he could kill _both_ of us. Two tributes dead and Firth will get credit for both kills. It's a little genius.

My head is still pounding from the rock but I ignore it and try to get shakily to my feet. My spear is still a good thirty feet from me, at the entrance of the trees. If I lunge, I have a chance to make.

While I contemplate how I'll move, Firth takes three steps closer and reaches his hand out for me, shattering any plans I had.

I throw myself backward from him as quick as I can, scrambling backward into the dirt again.

Firth frowns. "Epperly? Are you okay?"

"Stay away from me," I warn, crawling backwards toward the trees. If I can only reach my spear, then I can put up a fight. I can end the mystery tribute.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Firth says, moving closer. He's so god damned beautiful, it almost makes me want to believe him, but I don't. I know better. He's killed far too many people, and too savagely. I can't trust him.

"Sure," I say with an eye roll and continue to back up. Firth blinks, feigning confusion. I know I don't have long before he sinks that ax into me and I move quicker.

I'm only a foot from my spear now. Firth hasn't moved again. One more good stretch and I can reach it.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Firth repeats. His blue eyes widen and sparkle. "I promise."

I'm suddenly struck with Mar's words in my head. The words she told me when I spared her _; A promise doesn't mean much in the arena._

If that was true of me, it's really true of someone as lethal as Firth. I can't believe a word he says.

I've reached my spear now, and whip it out in front of me. That stops Firth in his tracks. His eyes widen in confusion as he takes the sight of me with a weapon, and he slowly raises his ax. It gives me just enough time to get my feet.

I don't stand as confidently as I want too. The blow to the head has me shaky and I can barely stand without wobbling. Firth notices.

"Epperly," he says warningly, "You can hardly stand. You think you'll be able to kill me?"

"If I have too." I narrow my eyes. "I'm not going to sit here and let you kill me." The words are meek and don't inspire much fear, but I know I'll do what I have to. I won't go down without a fight.

"I just saved your life," Firth says defiantly, his full lips pouting. "Why would I have stopped Kenrick from killing you if I wanted you dead?" He feigns innocence and shock so well. I almost believe him. _Almost._

"So you can kill me yourself," I tell him. "Two kills on your list is a lot better than one."

Firth rolls his eyes. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"Sorry I'm not exactly eloquent. I just had my head bashed in with a rock," I snap. I can taste a little blood in my mouth and swallow the desire to spit out on the ground.

Firth is starting to look annoyed now. His face is growing more and more agitated by the second.

"You saved my life," Firth reminds me. "If it weren't for you, I'd have died by the Cornucopia. Is it so hard to believe I'm repaying the favor?"

My answer comes quick and strong. "Yes."

He sighs. "Well it's the truth. I'm alive because of you. I couldn't live with myself if I sat around while the same guy _murdered_ you."

I grip my spear tighter, my face turning down into a confused frown. What he's saying makes sense. I'd probably listen if he were any other tribute. His words would be a lot easier to believe if I didn't know he was running around here murdering every other tribute.

He stops and his expression softens. "Actually, from the sound of it, dying was the least of your problems. Or did you not pick up on what he was about to do?"

I stiffen. I didn't realize Firth had heard that much of Kenrick and I's exchange. Maybe it's giving him ideas.

"I had a pretty good idea," I say quietly. My tone has become venomous as I picture what would have transpired if Firth hadn't stepped in. I can feel my anger at Kenrick threatening to spill over. My district partner tried to torture me. My district partner wanted to murder me. It takes everything I have not to kick his unconscious body for even threatening it.

Firth gives me a sympathetic look. "I wouldn't have let that happen to anyone in here, least of all someone who has already helped me." He pauses. "I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you. Why can't you believe that?"

I shift my weight to my other foot and even that gestures makes me shaky. I grip the spear, hoping that if I start to collapse, I can at least get a good jab in first.

"It might be easier to believe if you weren't running around killing tributes left and right," I say crossing my arms.

Firth blinks. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb," I tell him. "I know you're the mystery tribute whose been killing everyone in the woods. The boys from Eight and Nine? The girl from Eleven? Ringing any bells."

It makes me so angry that he's denying it. I don't see what difference it will make now. If he's going to kill me anyway, he could at least be honest.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Firth swears. "I've only killed two tributes, That guy from Two and him." He nods at Kenrick's body. "That's it. The boy from two tried to kill me and I wasn't going to let this idiot kill you. I thought you and the Careers were the one's killing everyone so fast."

"I don't believe you," I say confidently. "I was with the Careers when those three died. It wasn't them."

"Well it wasn't me!" Firth practically shouts. "I wouldn't do that. I've spent most of the Games in the tree's."

"The mystery tribute was shooting arrows from the trees." I point out. "One almost hit me in the head."

"Again," Firth says with a sigh. "I have no reason for wanting _you_ dead. You saved my life. It would be kind of shitty of me to kill you."

"Nothing is shitty in the arena, Firth" I remind him.

Firth shakes his head slowly. "Some things are."

"Well if it isn't you then who is it?" I demand. "It wasn't me or the other Careers, and everyone else is dead."

Firth pauses and I realize he must be trying to think of a lie. Anything that would make sense that someone other than him is murdering people in here.

"Not the boy from Three," Firth points out.

The boy from Three. That's the tribute I keep forgetting about. It almost surprises me he's made it so long, he must be good at hiding.

I shake my head. "Nice Try. He's what? Fifteen? Not exactly likely that he's a lethal killing machine."

"Stranger things have happened," Firth reminds me. "Discounting other tributes is why I'm sure you made it through the first day alive. They didn't know how lethal _you_ were."

So he knows I'm a threat. That's surprising at least. Maybe that's why he's trying to prolong my death. He has to trick me to take me down.

"That's different" I say defiantly.

"Is it?" Firth asks with a perfectly arched eyebrow. "No one really knows what a tribute is made of until they're in the arena. People play their own games in the Capitol. If you take appearances at face value, then you're nothing more than a pretty face. And last time I checked, pretty faces don't take knives to the hands to save other people."

My gaze drops down to my bandaged left hand, and so does Firth. When I look back at him, he grins. I blush a little, and I'm sure Firth can see it. He makes such perfect sense, it annoys me. I'm sure hundreds of people thought I would be a bloodbath victim for sure, and now here I am in the Top Five. Maybe I did the same thing to the boy from Three. Maybe he is more lethal than I thought.

Still, the most likely candidate for Mystery tribute is Firth. I can't forget that.

"I knew you were nice before the Games," Firth continues, "but when you took that knife for me, that's when I knew you were someone I could trust. Even if you were with the Careers."

"Maybe I'm just stupid," I say quickly. "Or I have a death wish."

Firth smiles. "I highly doubt that. No one who lives this long is stupid or suicidal. I will give you this though, I thought you were a little high maintenance before, but from the state you're in now, I can see that's not true. I'm pretty sure you've got at least two twigs in your hair right now."

"I did just fight for my life."

Firth grins, "Fine you get a pass, I guess. Although the more I look at it, the twigs kind of work for you. I wouldn't be surprised if people in the Capitols start wearing their hair like that on purpose."

His smile spreads, and I see he has dimples. I groan. People are practically biologically wired to trust people with dimples. It isn't fair.

I start to crack a smile, and then stop, keeping my face even. Just because he's funny, doesn't mean I can trust him. He's working the same angle on me that I've been working on everyone else since I got reaped. He may be charming and beautiful, but that doesn't mean he isn't dangerous. I steady my spear.

"What can I do to make you believe me?" Firth asks. I'm hardly listening to him. My eyes are still transfixed on the ax in his hand. He follows my gaze.

"Is that what it takes?" he asks. "Fine, here." He tosses the ax onto the ground in front of me. It makes a little thud as it lands blade first into the dirt.

My eyes bug out a little at the sight of it. Either he knows he's lethal enough to kill me with his bare hands, or he's telling the truth.

"Somewhere in the Capitol," Firth says with a smile, "my mentor is calling me an idiot."

"I can't blame them for that," I say. "Dropping your weapon in front of another tribute is kind of stupid. I could kill you right now."

Firth shrugs, "I guess that's a risk I'm willing to take."

"It's your funeral," I tell him.

"Guess so."

For a minute, we both just stand there staring at each other. I know the pressure is on me to decide what happens next. I only have three options. 1) Kill him now. It would end this exchange and bring the tribute number down to four. But my chest hurts inexplicably even thinking about that option. I couldn't kill him when he's practically surrendered. If he is telling the truth and doesn't want to hurt me, that makes me heartless. The audience would hate me, and people the audience hates rarely win. And anyway, it would be too cruel. He did save my life, after all.

Option 2) Leave. I have a weapon and he doesn't. That gives me more than enough time to make it far enough from him. If he chases me, that would give me a _reason_ to kill him at least. The problem is, I don't think I can make it that far. Fighting with Kenrick and the rock to the head has left me weak. Even if I could make it, something in my chest keeps me from immediately choosing that option.

Option 3) Make him another Ally. Allies this close to the end of the Games are uncommon. No one ever wants it to come down to just the two of them. I, especially, haven't had such great experiences with allies. I know I should let my experience with Mar teach me to avoid other people, but the Games have been lonely without anyone. So much so, I even find myself missing her. A traitor.

"What are you going to do?" Firth asks, drawing me out of my thoughts. I look back to him. He's taller than I remembered. Not quite as tall as Kenrick, but he still towers over me. He crosses his muscled arms in front of him while he waits for my answer. It would take at least three moves for him to get out of that and be able to strangle me. He must not be lying.

"I'm not going to kill you," I tell him carefully. "That's about where I've landed on this whole thing."

Firth smiles. "Well, I'm glad for that. Did I properly convince you I'm not murdering innocent tributes?"

I shrug, "As much as you're able to, I guess."

"That only leaves us with two options," Firth reminds me. "We either separate, and let each other walk away unscathed, or we become allies."

Allies. That word sounds wrong to me now. Mar's betrayal has scarred me on levels I didn't even understand.

I tense. "My last ally _literally_ stabbed me in the back." I shrug out of my right jacket sleeve and show him the wrapped bandage. He frowns.

I must subconsciously trust him a little bit, otherwise showing a wound to my enemy was a really stupid move. That's when I realize I _do_ trust him. I never wanted to believe Firth was the mystery tribute. It always seemed wrong to me. Firth was a nice person in training, funny even. I _liked_ him. That's why I stopped Kenrick from killing him at the cornucopia. And he did just save my life. I'd be tortured and dead right now if weren't for him.

" _Mother of Panem_ ," Firth curses quietly. "Who was it?"

"The girl from Eight," I whisper. Saying Mar's name is too hard.

He frowns, "Did you?" he trails off, not finishing his question. He doesn't have too, I know what he means. He knows Mar is dead. He saw her picture in the sky. Firth wants to know if I killed her.

I bit my bottom lip before I answer. Of the three people I killed in this arena, Mar's death hurt the worst.

"I had no choice," I whisper. "She was trying to kill me."

"That's.." Firth sighs. "That's rough. I'm sorry. I thought only Careers turned on their allies."

I sigh too. "Not always, I guess."

We're silent for a few seconds and Firth seems like he's contemplating what I just told him. So far, he only knows about one of my kills. I wonder if I should tell him about the other two. I decide against it for now.

"Why do you even want me as an ally?" I ask him "We're at top five."

Three more tribute deaths and it's down to the final two. That's a showdown that would become pretty depressing if it were just Firth and me. I don't want to kill him, but if he were the only thing standing between me and going home. I don't even want to think about what I would do.

"Because I like you, Epperly," he tells me honestly. "I liked you before the Games and you've only proven that you're more trustworthy since they've started."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "You liked me _before the Games_?" I mock.

Firth rolls his eyes, "Anyway, _as I was saying_ , think about it, our instincts are to protect each other in the arena. That's a pretty good quality in an ally, don't you think?"

I can't argue with logic like that and he knows it. I'd be a cold person if I left now. I can practically here Finnick's words in my ears; _The Capitol wants sweet, pretty Epperly. Sweet, Pretty Epperly makes is allies with the beautiful tribute from seven._ The Capitol will get bored if I wander around on my own. That's how you get taken out by mutts or Gamemaker interference. Firth had backed me in a corner, and from the grin on his face, he seems to know it.

"We separate at top three okay?" I tell him. "I don't want it to come down to you and I."

Firth smiles, "Sure thing. If we make it that long, that is."

I roll my eyes. "Such confidence."

"I don't like to be cocky," Firth tells me with a grin. I immediately think of Finnick, who spent his entire games being cocky. I wonder what he thinks of my new ally. I wonder what he thought of the last one. I realize I'd give anything to talk to him right now. Somehow, the Games have made me feel closer to that arrogant man than I ever thought I would. He is the one keeping me alive.

I nod at his ax on the ground. "You could've fooled me. This move was a little overconfident."

Firth reaches down to pick up his ax and smiles. "Yeah, well. Desperate times and all that. Thanks for not killing me by the way."

"My pleasure," I chuckle, "Let's keep this up okay? I really don't want an axe to the back."

"I'll see what I can do," Firth says with a laugh.

He reached around to grab something out of his bag and I take a step forward. I'm still a little unsteady, and even that gestures make dizzy. I take a seat on the giant rock to steady myself.

"Do you have a concussion?" Firth asks coming beside me. "I don't know what the signs are, so if you do, feel free to share."

My fingers reach out to touch my hairline. They come away with sticky red blood. The rock cut into my scalp and it's still bleeding.

"I don't think it's a concussion," I say, pulling my hair into a ponytail in order to get a better feel of the injury. "Just a bad hit. It feels like a gash."

Firth is watching me carefully as I touch it again.

"Your kind of beaten up, huh?" he asks, kneeling so he's at my height. He looks to my bandaged left hand and the cut on my cheek. The way he says it is more of an observation, like he hadn't noticed before.

"I've run into a few unfriendly types," I admit.

Firth reaches out to touch the deep scrape on his arm. "Me too."

I reach into my backpack to pull out the first aid kit. I still have a few of the painkillers left and most of the supplies. The tube of medicine is still half full. I hand it to him.

"For your cheek," I tell him.

He blinks at in surprise and then his raises an eyebrow when he realizes what I've handed him.

"You sure?" he asks. I nod. It feels wrong to hoard it, and that scrape on his arm looks bad. You have to make sure wounds in the arena heal right, otherwise infection will kill you.

"Thanks," he says taking it carefully. "You've got good sponsors, huh?"

I nod. "I guess so. You probably do too."

Firth spreads a little bit of the medicine on his cheek and he almost whimpers. I know the cool relief that comes with it, and can imagine how good it feels.

"I mean I have sponsors" he adds, rubbing the ointment in. "But I got a loaf of bread and a pack of matches. Not a full apothecary."

Color floods to my cheeks, and I don't know why. It's not as though I have anything to be embarrassed about. I should be proud I have good sponsors. Finnick has really been pulling for me in the Capitol, and I've earned them.

Firth grins. "I'm just messing with you, you know. If I lived in the Capitol I'd probably sponsor you too."

"Because I'm pretty?" I demand with a scowl.

He rolls his eyes and then lets out a little laugh. "Yes, Epperly. You're right. I'm sure it has _nothing_ to do with your survival instincts or compassion in the arena. Nope, I'm _sure_ people sponsor you because you've got nice eyes."

"You'd be surprised," I say, and then I drop it. I was about to bash the Capitol, and that would be a sure-fire way to get the sponsor gifts to stop. Firth seems to pick up on what I'm saying and gives me a curt little nod.

I ball up some of the gauze and hold it to my head, trying to soak up the blood. I can't feel exactly where the cut is, but this has to at least stop the bleeding.

"I can see it" Firth says, "Let me help," He grabs a little ball of gauze and moves toward my face. Immediately, I want to move away, an instinct for self-preservation. It takes half a second to realize Firth isn't trying to hurt me. He simply presses the gauze to my forehead and wipes the blood. He does this over and over, his eyes focusing only on the gash. His blue eyes narrow in concentration as he works. It's such a kind gesture, I'm almost shocked.

"Thanks," I tell him. "You didn't have to do that."

He shrugs. "You didn't have to share that medicine either."

"It seemed like the right thing to do."

"So did this."

His words make my stomach knot up. Firth is _nice_. He's the kind of person who repays debts and stops people like Kenrick from killing people like me. I was plotting how to kill him a few minutes ago, and now he's kneeling beside me fixing my wounds. He's an even better person than I am. That makes me feel guilty. I'm glad I choose not to kill him. I'm glad he's an ally.

"I'm going to put some of this on it, okay?" Firth holds up the medicine. I nod. A moment later I feel his fingers rub a layer of the medicine across the long gash. He steps back to examine it, and frowns slightly.

"Does it look that bad?" I ask him.

Firth gives me a sympathetic smile. "I won't lie, it's a little gruesome, but I think this should heal it. Can you stand?"

I nod and Firth helps me to my feet. He hands me my spear and I take it gratefully. I always feel better when it's in my hand.

"We should probably get out of here," I tell him, nodding at Kenrick's body. "The hovercraft will be here soon, and it will let the other tributes know where we are."

"Good thinking," Firth agrees. "Can you make it walking?"

"I'll be fine."

Firth nods and takes off for the forest ahead of us. It takes me a moment of watching him uncertainly but finally I follow. Taking another Ally is risky, I know that. But somehow, I can't think it's worth the risk.

These Games are too tricky to play alone.


	17. The Almost

Firth and I walk through the forest until the sun sets. We take it slow, because I'm still so unsteady, but Firth doesn't seem to mind, or if he does, he doesn't comment on it. Eventually it becomes easier to walk and we pick up speed. It goes on like that for a few hours.

The most surprising discovery is that Firth's very easy to make conversation with. He's chattier than I am, and goes on and on while we walk, telling me about everything he's been up to since the Games started. He spent most of it on the defensive. He stayed out of the other tributes way, hunted squirrels and ate pine nuts. He hid when Careers and other tributes passed by. He claims he only made it this far because of luck. I told him I doubted that.

After a few hours, I'd have been content to just let him prattle on, but he's considerate too and stops every so often he asks me questions about what I've done. I tell him about leaving the Careers, and the hellish day in the maze. I proudly tell him about how I fished to eat. That seems to impress him, and he wants to learn how. My first instinct hearing that is to giggle, but I hold it in. When I tell the rest of the story, I quickly go over the death of Hawke. I don't go into details about Audra's death or Mar's betrayal, and Firth doesn't ask. I just move quickly onto the mutts and then running into Kenrick. When I talk, he stares at me unblinkingly, completely focused on what I'm saying as if it's the most interesting words he's ever heard. The attention almost makes me uncomfortable, except that he always smiles. He's charismatic, and I know that's dangerous too. I can't like him too much. Either way, one of us is dying. I make sure our conversation stays on the Games, and nothing else.

Eventually, it becomes dark and we have to decide where to spend the night. Firth tells me he's spent almost every night sleeping in the trees, and suggests we find one to hide in for tonight.

"The trees?" I ask in disbelief. "The branches don't start until almost thirty feet up."

Firth chuckles. "Are you forgetting I'm from Seven? I could climb one's twice that tall from the moment I could talk."

He stops and rests a hand against the trunk of a wide pine in front of us. "This one looks sturdy."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "And do you expect to sleep on the ground while you're up there? I'm from four. I haven't ever even seen a tree like this before the Games."

"It's easy to learn how to climb them," Firth tells me, smiling wide.

"Easy?" I ask critically.

"Well, maybe not easy, but doable," Firth says, slightly amused. "Though you might be right. We should probably try it tomorrow, after you've rested."

"Yeah," I agree. "Let's save the new physical challenges for the morning."

Firth looks around the forest and sighs. "I don't see why we can't just sit here. We should be fine as long as we take shifts."

I cross my arms. "You sure? It's a little exposed."

Firth smiles. "I think we'll be okay. I have _you_ here to protect me."

I roll my eyes at his ridiculousness and take a seat at the base of the tree. Firth seems to get a kick out of it. He tosses his ax into the air and catches it perfectly on the handle. The gesture is smooth, and it displays exactly what he wants it too. Firth can handle himself.

The longer I look at him, the more I see it. Behind the cocky grin, and the bright blue eyes is a fierceness that has kept Firth alive this long. The muscles stretched across his arms and chest certainly don't hurt either. They always say nobody decent ever wins the Games. If that's true, Firth is either not as nice as I think, or he won't make it out of the arena alive.

It makes me sad to think about, Firth's death. Then I think about me. If I am good person, my death is slowly approaching. If I'm not, I might have a chance at winning, but I'm what my life will be like I don't know.

Firth takes a seat beside me and leans his head back against the trunk. I rifle through my bag and pull out my canteen of water and some fish. I only have one and half left, and I definitely have to go fishing tomorrow.

I break off half of the fish and hand it to Firth. He eyes it with a raised eyebrow and wrinkles his nose.

"You're not hungry?" I ask him.

Firth purses his lips at me. "No, I am. I just... that looks revolting."

I give him the dirtiest look I can muster, and he seems amused.

"Have I offended your District Four sensibilities?" he asks.

I nod my head. "Yeah, actually. I caught and cooked this myself. That's a whole hell of a lot more impressive than gathering pine nuts."

"Only slightly though," Firth says.

I smile. "Only slightly."

Firth lingers on the smile and then sighs. Slowly he takes the other half of fish from my fingers.

I watch anxiously as he puts it into his mouth, awaiting his reaction. He chews it for a moment and then rolls his eyes.

"Its good, huh?" I ask, smiling.

Firth finishes off his piece and nods. "Yeah, it's good."

I let out an actual laugh and Firth licks his fingers.

"How'd you learn to fish anyway?" Firth asks.

"Are you forgetting I'm from Four?" I ask, mocking him "I could fish from the moment I could talk."

Firth laughs loudly and the tree almost rocks. "That's funny. The girl from four as got jokes."

"Well we all have to have something, right?"

"Did you teach yourself?" Firth continues. In the last hour, he's asked me more questions about my personal life than I've ever been asked. It feels a little like being interviewed by Cesar Flickerman, but slightly less pressure-filled.

"My brothers taught me," I tell him. "When you've got four older brothers yelling at you to bring home dinner you'd be surprised how fast you pick up the skill."

Firth smiles. "That's nice," he says. "I wish I had siblings."

"You only say that because you don't have them," I joke.

Firth opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by the anthem, and the arrival of Panem's seal in the sky. It seems like an entire lifetime has passed since the last time I heard it, and it makes my skin crawl a little.

Kenrick's face is the only one in the sky. I can't even look at it straight on. Kenrick has always scared me, even before. But now? It's pure terror. If Firth hadn't intervened when he did, Kenrick would have ended me. In more ways than one. Even knowing he's dead doesn't ease the fear I feel when I look into his eyes.

The only solace I have is that somewhere Fane and Garnet are seeing the same picture in the sky. They have to know it was either Firth, me or the District Three tribute who took him out. Whoever it was, they'll fear them. They were after all strong enough to take out a Career. Strong enough to take them one of them out. They'll be scared. And for some, sick twisted reason, that makes me happy.

"How's the head?" Firth asks abruptly.

I was so zoned out I didn't even notice him looking at him. He waits for an answer.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," I tell him, "but chances are it was probably kill me, and then you won't have to worry about doing it."

"That's not funny," Firth says evenly, shaking his head.

I crack a smile. "It's a little funny. What's the Hunger Games without some humor?"

"I'd reckon it's still a televised fight to the death," Firth whispers.

The heaviness of his statement rings out into the forest, and immediately Firth tightens. I can sense the change in tone immediately. I recognize it. It's the same way I reacted when people talked about the Games after Wilder.

"You didn't watch the Games before, did you?" I ask him quietly.

Firth stares straight ahead when he answers. "No, I didn't watch them." He stares at his hands for a minute and then runs them through his hair. "My family wasn't particularly fond of them. It's kind of ironic actually, that I was reaped."

His voice is low and sad. I can sense the pain and unhappiness beneath it. It sounds nothing like his normally peppy tone. I recognize it instantly. It's grief.

"Did you lose someone in the Games?" I whisper.

I know immediately that the cameras are on us. They'll want to see our grief up close. The audience lives for touchy feely moments like between allies. Especially this close to the end of the Games. They're starved for moments that aren't boring or brutal. All of Panem is definitely watching this conversation.

Firth turns to look at me and his eyes bore into mine. He nods. "I think that's why I liked you immediately," he says. "My mentor told me about your brother. I figured you'd know what it was like to lose someone in the Games. You'd get it."

My chest tightens at the mention of Wilder. So few people actually bring it up to me anymore, that I forget I said it on national television.

"Was it family?" I asked.

Firth shakes his head. "No. My best friend Cedar. He was in the Games two years ago. I never watched them again after that. I couldn't even listen to people talk about them. The reapings, they were like rubbing salt in the wound."

One of Firth's hands knots in his hair and he avoids looking at me. I'm still having trouble processing the similarities between me and him. Losing someone in the Games changes you as a person. Just like entering the arena changes you. Firth and I have both been repeatedly stabbed by the same knife.

"When my brother died, we stopped watching too," I tell him. "We used to love them. Most of the people in District Four do. My brothers and I even used to play Hunger Games on the beach. We didn't…understand."

"I'm sorry," Firth says wistfully. "That's rough."

"I'm sorry for you too," I tell him.

Firth has turned forward again, avoiding my eyes. I know talking about this must be just as painful for him as it is for me. Even though, ever ounce of me thinks it might be a bad idea. I gently reach down and give his hand a comforting squeeze. I only do it for a second and then pull my hand away, but still Firth looks to me. He watches me for a second and then gives me a soft smile.

"You can take the first sleep if you want," Firth tells me. "I'll wake you up if there's trouble."

My voice is a little shaky. I don't know why but I'm suddenly alive with nerves. "Okay."

I ball up my backpack and use it as a pillow, laying down only a few feet from Firth.

"Hey Firth?" I call.

"Yes?" he answers quietly.

"Please don't kill me, okay?" I whisper.

This time it's Firth who reaches out to squeeze my hand. Again, it's only a second, but the gesture speaks volumes. We're comforting one another. Faced with the most brutal battle we'll ever be involved in, we're keeping our compassion.

"Goodnight, Epperly," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Firth."


	18. The Trees

The night is strange one. Probably one of the strangest I've ever spent in the arena. Firth lets me sleep for a few hours before we switch. When he wakes me up, I'm wired, blinking around in confusion and fear until I remember he's my ally. It only takes me a few seconds to calm down and then let him sleep. Firth crashes the moment his head is down and soon his soft snoring fills the general area.

I touch my fingers to my forehead and find the gash that was flowing blood freely yesterday is nothing more than a light pink, healed scar. Another application and it probably won't even scar. I shake my head, the Capitol can create medications this strong, but not find a way to feed it's people? Unlikely. I check my shoulder and see that wound is closed up too. It's deeper than the one on my head, so I add another application of medicine to it. I can't have it reopening here, especially when we run out of medication.

After that I nibble on a little fish. I only have one small hunk left and I'm saving it for when Firth when he wakes up. Our water is running low too. We definitely need to visit the stream today. I'd go now, but I can't leave Firth sleeping and unprotected. We'll have to go as soon as he gets up. For now, I just have to sit and wait.

It's a little boring just sitting watch, staring absentmindedly at trees. There's so few tributes left that I know chances are no one will show up. Showing up means a fight, and it would be too risky to try and take down two of us.

After all, there's only three other people in the arena now; Fane, Garnet and the boy from three.

By now, everyone will probably be on their own. Fane and Garnet are from the same district, but loyalties are always tested when it comes down to this few. Chances are, they won't be together. And the boy from Three? He's been alone this whole time. I doubt he'd change up his method now and take an ally. Even if he wanted too, both Fane and Garnet are too arrogant to take him on. They wouldn't trust him.

I rack my mind trying to remember his name. Colby? Cedric? I seem to remember it starting with a C, but nothing else is registering in my brain. I barely even remember his face. The only dim memory I have is of him standing next to me before the gong rang out on the first day, but even then, I was more focused on Mar, and trying not to die.

I do remember his district partner, Hannilyn. I watched Fane kill her on the first night. She was running from someone. Could it have been her District Partner? I never thought of it at the time, but now? Who knows. The idea still frustrates me, though. How could someone I barely remember really be that strong?

He didn't make much of an impression during the tribute parade, or in training. I can't even remember his interview. He was careful. He made sure we'd forget about him. It was a ballsy strategy, and it seems to be working.

If he is that smart, I hope he runs into Fane or Garnet. I don't like the idea of working against someone who has thought this out so clearly. Minds like that usually win. That's how Beetee from Three won a few years ago, and how Johanna Mason did too. A tribute like that could win.

When the sun finally rises, I wake Firth up. He jolts awake the second I touch his arm, looking around wildly and reaching for his ax.

He stops after a second and looks at me, remembering. "Epperly," he whispers. He shakes his head. "Sorry, I just…forgot."

I shake my head. "You just woke up. You're allowed to be confused. I was."

"Did you get enough sleep?" Firth asks sleepily wiping at his eyes. I nod.

Firth gets up stretches his legs and I follow.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Firth asks. "Tree climbing lessons?" He looks far to eager for that, so I'm excited that's not what I had planned.

"Fishing first," I tell him. "Were almost completely out of food and water."

"So what you're saying is I get to the spear-wielding Epperly in action?" he asks.

I grin. "On fish at least."

"It'll still be interesting," Firth says with a sly shrug. "Come on, show me how you earned your sponsors, Four."

Firth gathers his stuff and I pick up my spear. We talk quietly as we head for the stream. It's about an hour's walk from here, and as we head for it, Firth makes conversation about his home back in District Seven. He tells me about his school, and his family. How everyone in the district cuts down trees in the fall and winter, and that's how so many of the District Seven tributes are good at climbing trees and throwing axes.

When we do finally get to the stream, Firth watches as I climb into the freezing water and wait. I try to keep still while I wait, but Firth keeps asking me questions and I try my best to answer to them and still stay immobile. He asks about my parents and my brothers. He's fascinated about the idea of having that many siblings around. Then he asks about my friends. I tell him about Ginger and Ivan, and it feels a little weird talking about them. It's seems like a lifetime ago that I saw either one of their faces. I wonder if the Capitol interviewed them at the top eight, and what they said. Are they rooting for me? Somehow, I think Ivan is, but Ginger? She knows a lot about the Games from watching them so closely. I have a feeling she already has a pretty good idea about whether or not I'll win.

Then he asks what I spent my free time doing, and I tell him about swimming and fishing with my brothers, and making shell jewelry with Ginger. I feel like I might be boring him, but he hangs onto every word. He asks me about my District too, and that's when I'm sure the Game makers are editing out our conversation, they won't want the other districts learning about one another.

Eventually the fish do come and I have to focus. They took way longer than usual to appear. Something I think must have to do with the Capitol. With the tribute number getting so low, they must be desperate to starve us out and draw us together.

When fish do come by, I quickly spear two of the fattest ones before the others have time to scatter. They're fat, thick fish that will last a long time. I throw they're lifeless bodies on the bank beside Firth. He gives them a quick once over and then smiles.

"I'm impressed," he admits weighing one in his hand. "You're even more capable then I thought."

I shrug, "I'm from four. Half of the district knows how to do this."

I stay in the water, hoping more fish will come by. I like to have at least five now that there's two of us. I don't want to have to be tied to this stream the whole time. We can't leave that much of a pattern. I manage to spear two more fish, and then the freezing water begins too much for me and I have to get out, warming my feet.

Firth fills both of our bottles of water while I dry off and retie my boots. He clutches them in his hands and I get to my feet. We set off back towards the forest and find a comfortable place to cook the fish and boil the water.

Firth is better than I am at setting fires and does it in half the time it took me. He tells me it's because it's colder in Seven. They have to learn to set fires before they can even go out to the woods.

"You should've seen me the first night," Firth said shaking his head. "I killed a couple of squirrels but I was too terrified to set a fire to cook them. I thought for sure a Career would see the smoke and come to kill me. It took me an entire day to gather the courage to do it."

"My first kill came because I set a fire," I tell them. "The boy from Ten was hungry. He saw the smoke and smelled the fish."

"Oh yeah," Firth nods. "I remember you said that. I guess it was smart of me to wait then, huh?"

"Very," I agree.

When the fish is finished cooking and the water boiled, we wrap everything up and put it in our bags. I put out the fire quickly and we both head off into another direction. We take our time as we walk back through the forest. There's two of us, so we're less worried about being ambushed by any tribute who's seen the smoke. Still, we don't stop until we've been walking for at least a an hour.

Firth stops in a collection of thick pines and turns to me. "Alright? I watched you fish. I took notes. Now it's your turn."  
"To do what?" I ask.

"Learn to climb trees, darling."

I shake my head furiously. "Do you see how high up those are?" I demand. "I will fall and die."

Firth chuckles. "It's easy, I promise. You might fall once or twice, but I promise you won't die, alright?"

"No."

"Watch me." Firth drops his ax and backpack onto the ground and approaches the tree. He takes a second to hike his pants higher onto his calves and then jumps into the air. He's so lithe I almost miss it as he lands on the tree and climbs up it effortlessly. His hands and feet seem to grip the trees like there's knots and ledges that aren't actually there. The muscles in his arms and back flex as he rises higher and higher on the tree. I can hardly believe what I'm watching. He doesn't look human. The gesture is so coordinated and purposeful it looks like only animal could do it. I watch in disbelief as Firth rises higher and higher into the air. He stops when he reaches the first branch and swings onto it. He sits on it confidently, a wide cocky grin stretching across his face as he lets his feet dangle.

"See?" he smiles. "Easy."

I can barely hear him he's so high up in the air. If he expects me to be able to do that, he's insane.

"You have to be joking!" I shout up at him. "I can't do that!"

Firth sighs, and swings off his branch. Once he's back on the trunk of the tree, he shimmies down in a matter of seconds and stands in front of me.

"That was extremely impressive," I tell him. "I'm about ready to sponsor you."

Firth grins. "That?" he asks. "That was nothing. I can scale a hundred foot one at home."

I look past him to the towering tree. "You do realize I can't do that right?"

Firth rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. "Take off your belt."

"Excuse me?"

"Your belt. Take it off."

I raise an eyebrow at him, my mouth slightly agape. "I found the tree-climbing pretty impressive, Firth, but not enough to start taking off my clothes."

Firth lets out a loud booming laugh, that practically shakes the trees around us. He actually doubles over, he's laughing so hard.

"It's for _climbing_ , Epperly," he says and a wide smile stretches across his face. "But it's good to see where your mind is at."

I narrow my eyes at him and take off my belt. Firth only chuckles. I hand it to him with more force than necessary.

Firth takes it lightly and walks back over to the tree. He takes it and loops it around the base of the tree, holding it tightly. While he grips it, he puts his feet on the trunk. Then he moves the belt up the base of the tree, moving his feet slowly up and down in a kind of hopping motion. The belt gives him support and makes it easier to climb. I never would have thought of that.

He stops when he gets halfway towards the branches and then drops back down, handing me back my belt.

"That's genius," I tell him.

"A little district seven trick for you," Firth says. "Now you try."

I flex the belt between my fingers and move towards the tree. I try to do my best to mimic Firth's moves but it's harder than it looks. I can barely move the belt and my feet up an inch.

"This is harder than you make it look," I shout back to him, trying to push myself further up onto the tree.

Firth comes up behind me and tried to help me straighten my form. I rise another couple of inches with his help, but it's still difficult and I can feel my face turning red. Eventually I manage to get it a few feet higher on the trunk, but then the belt slips and I come crashing to the ground. I hit the forest floor so hard it almost knocks the wind out of me.

Firth frowns. "You okay?"

"Just peachy," I joke, wiping the dirt from my hair.

He helps to my feet, and we try again. Firth is a patient teacher and tries to offer me tips, but it seems to be no use. Every time I try to get move either my feet or the belt, one of them slips and I come crashing to the ground. It goes on and on like this for hours, and still I've made for little progress. It's starting to get dark again and still I haven't gotten the hang of it.

The only time I even made it a quarter of the way up, I fall from the trunk and into the dirt. When I rise, I pout and kick the base of the tree.

"Why can't I get this?" I demand furiously

Firth offers me a sympathetic glance. "You've never done it before. I'm sure it just takes some time."

"I'm going to break my ankle or something if I keep falling like that," I frown.

Firth looks unsure of what to say, and I know exactly what he's thinking. If I can't learn to climb the tree, we'll either have to separate or find somewhere much more exposed to sleep.

I open my mouth to voice this, but am suddenly stopped by the arrival of a silver parachute floating through the air and dropping in front of both of us.

I look to Firth and he looks back to me. "I think it's probably for you, Four."

"Well we'll know when we open it," I say popping open the top.

Firth kneels beside me while I pull out two strange objects. They look like some kind of harnesses, made of thick elastic straps, except they have a sharp knife blade on the bottom. I have no clue what they are, but Firth smiles, " I think those are for you."

"Are these some kind of torture devices?" I ask him.

"They're climbing spurs. You put them on your boots and the blade sticks into the tree trunk to help you climb," Firth says holding one up.

He puts his thigh. "Here give me your foot."

I hesitantly stretch out my leg and watch as Firth secures the spur onto my boot. I watch his movements carefully and copy them with the other leg. When I stand the blades bury themselves in the dirt tightly. I smile, this is going to make climbing the tree a hundred times easier.

It's a little hard getting back over to the tree, and Firth laughs at the little side-hop I have to do to get the blades out of the ground. I approach the tree carefully and wrap the belt around it again. This time it's easier. The blades sink right into the tree and steady me enough so that I can moved the belt upwards more freely. I can even pull myself up.

"There you go!" Firth calls happily.

When I use the belt method this time around, it goes a hundred times better. I keep climbing steadily and before I know it, I'm halfway up the tree. I can hear Firth clapping below me. When I finally start to approach one of the branches, Firth grabs our weapons and starts to climb. It only takes him seconds and suddenly he's beside me in the air, smirking.

He nods at the branch only inches from us, "Climb onto that branch okay?" I nod and he expertly climbs around me, taking a set on the branch. It takes me another minute before I'm close enough to pull myself onto the branch. When I get there, I take the belt off the tree, and Firth helps me take the spurs off, putting them back in my backpack.

"You climbed the tree," he says proudly.

"Barely," I pant. It was terrifying and I'm still not over the sensation that I'm this far into the air.

Firth eyes the branch warily and then looks to ones above us. "I don't want to overwhelm you, but if we plan on spending the night here, we should probably climb onto a higher branch."

I nod, "No, that makes sense. I don't want to go falling to my death or anything."

I reach back into my backpack for the spurs but Firth's hands stop me. He gently shakes his head. "You won't need those. We're just going one branch up. I'll help you."

I give him a wary look and Firth ignores it. He stands onto the branch and carefully maneuvers himself onto the next, wider one. He motions for me to follow him, and I do shakily. I've only taken two steps before one of his hand grabs my arm, and the other grabs my waist. Carefully, he pulls me onto the branch with him, holding onto me the entire time, ensuring I don't fall.

Immediately, I'm glad we've moved onto this branch. It feels sturdier than the other one and both Firth and I can both lean into the trunk comfortably.

"You might want to belt yourself to the branch," Firth suggests. "I'm used to the height, but you might move in the middle of the night."

It's a good suggestion, and makes me feel better. Carefully, I take my belt and belt myself to the branch around my legs.

The sky is almost black now, and the temperature has started to drop immediately. I can't help but think there's no way night fell _this_ quickly. Are Gamemakers interfering with us again or did I just lose track of time? As a cold wind slaps past my cheeks, I know it's the Gamemakers. The arena was always cold, but it wasn't this cold before.

"I can't help but think of how mentor right now," Firth says quietly. "Anyone from Seven just got a really big kick of watching you climb the tree like that."

A blush rushes across my cheeks immediately. "Glad I amuse you."

Firth shakes his head. "Don't be embarrassed, it's just funny to people who grow up climbing trees. I also can't spear fish like you can."

"I can teach you that," I tell him. "You'll probably pick up faster than I did climbing trees."

"Tomorrow," Firth says. "That'll be the plan."

We're quiet for a few minutes after that, and the anthem plays during our silence. There were no deaths today, so no pictures appear in the sky. That makes me a little nervous. This close to the end, people will get bored without any bloodshed. Firth and I will have to become much more interesting to watch if we don't want Gamemaker intervention. I decide to make it more interesting myself.

"You mentioned your mentor before," I tell Firth quietly. "Who's yours, Blight or Johanna?"

I'm actually surprised I managed to remember both of District Seven's victors, and Firth seems to be surprised too. He blinks at me quickly before he answers.

"Johanna. She's tough. Ruthless almost, but she cares about the tributes." He stops and then he smiles. "She's actually the one who told me to watch out for you. That you might be dangerous too. She could sense you were putting on an act to hide your talents. She did the same thing her year."

"I remember. She cried a lot and pretended to be weak."

"Yeah. I guess that's why she could tell," Firth says. "What about you? What's Finnick O'dair like as a mentor?"

"Finnick?" I giggle. "Finnick is showy and overconfident, but at the ase of everything he's a good person and tough. He's kept me alive in here."

Firths face falls, and he goes very still. "Do you _like_ him?" he whispers.

Firth's expression is strange, and I can't quite place why it looks so unusual. For whatever reason, the idea of me being involved with Finnick seems to bother Firth.

I shake my head furiously. "Not like _that_. I just appreciate what he's done for me. I don't think I would have lived this long if it weren't for him."

"Oh, okay." Firth relaxes and he nods evenly, his face turning pink. "That's good. I'm glad you don't like him like _that_."

He wrings his hands in front of me. Firth is normally very sure of himself. It's weird to see him fidget. I realize, Firth is nervous.

"Why are you glad?" I ask. My entire chest feels as though it's tightening and my heart is racing. For some reason, my palms start to sweat as I await his response.

Firth turns to face me, and his blue eyes are so captivating it's hard to look away from them. He stares at me for a second, his eyes softening before he answers. I find myself desperately waiting for his answer. Why would my liking Finnick bother him? He couldn't possibly…Firth's head leans in slightly towards me.

 _Snap!_

Both of our eyes immediately look down to where the unmistakable sound of footsteps came from. Even in the dark, I can see Fane's shape below us. His long, golden colored hair practically glows. He holds his sword out in front of him and trudges through the forest. He's only thirty below us. If he looks up, he'll see us.

Then again, we have the element of surprise. From here, I could probably throw my spear, but if I miss, he'll have my weapon and he'll probably fight back. If I wasn't so high up, I'd jump down. If I want to take out Fane, I'll have to shimmy down the tree a little first. I move to slide out from my belt, but Firth's hand grips my forearm stopping me.

I turn to Firth, and see he's shaking his head, holding a finger up to his mouth. He widens his eyes at me, concerned. He knows what I was planning to do and he doesn't want me too. He wants to let Fane leave. I can't try and take him out now, it wouldn't be fair to Firth. It would give away his position too. I listen and wait for Fane to disappear out of sight.

"It wasn't worth the risk," Firth whispers several minutes later.

"Yeah, you're right," I whisper, feeling worse. "I'm going to go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay," Firth says softly, and I shut my eyes.

Shame washes over me immediately, heavy and thick as I pretend to fall asleep. What just happened shows how different Firth and I are.

Firth lets people go. Firth doesn't seek out fights. If I had been here alone, there's not a doubt in my mind I would have taken Fane out, or died trying.

I realize then, I'm the aggressor. I'm a Career. I'm exactly the people in the Games I've always hated. Firth isn't. Firth lets people go. _I'm_ the bad one.

A tiny voice in my mind reminds me of something. Firth and I promised we'd separate at top three. If I killed Fane, we'd be one tribute closer. Maybe, just maybe, Firth would have normally killed Fane too. Maybe, Firth didn't want to kill Fane to keep the two of us together.

My heart flips at the possibility, and then I remember how dangerous that is. You can't care for people in the arena. It only leads to heartbreak.

After all, there's only one winner.

Sleeping in an upright position against a tree is mildly uncomfortable. I wake up several times during the night, out of discomfort or fear, I don't know, but I must have slept for a long while because the sun is out and shining when my eyes finally drift open.

Beside me, Firth is still fast asleep. His face is still and he looks younger than he normally does, but one thing I know from having brothers is that boys always look younger when they sleep. I watch him for a second, transfixed by how peaceful he looks. I guess sleep is the only time in the arena any of us are calm.

I do my best not to disturb him and stretch my arms beside me. I'm stiff from the way I've been sleeping and all I want to do is stretch my legs on even ground.

It's only because I'm leaning down stretching, that I see the towering wave heading for towards us.


	19. The Wave

Chapter Nineteen:

Normally, the sight of a wave calms me. At home, its familiar and common. I've been paddling around in waves since before I could walk. The water and its accompanying waves are as much a home to me as our tiny beach cottage in District Four. Maybe that's why the first thing I feel is not sheer panic like I should. The first thing I feel is excitement.

I'd have no trouble navigating the wall of water that's rolling towards us. It's mammoth and even from here, I can see it towers over the trees. My legs twitch in anticipation of its arrival. The desire to feel water on my limbs is almost overwhelming. It's been weeks since I've been swimming and the idea of getting to dive into that wall of water is almost too good to pass up.

The Gamemakers must like me. This wall of water is a death sentence to every single tribute other than me. Sure, some of them might be able to swim, but not like I can. This wave will be an annoyance to them, but to me? I could thrive in it.

But back in four, these happen on the ocean all the time. When we were kids, my brothers and I would sit and wait in the water all summer for a wave like this. But as it gets closer I realize this wave isn't like those ones we used to swim through. This wave is perfectly engineered. It's made by Gamemakers to be strong and cause damage. This wave is deadly. This is a wave meant to drown tributes. I can probably still manage its stormy waters but as it crashes towards me I realize how incredibly selfish I've been. I have an ally! There's no way Firth can manage those waters. This wave will kill him without my help. And I can't let him die, not now after everything he's done for me.I dart back to where he's sleeping and violently shake him awake.

"Firth!" I shout. "You have to wake up." He's slow. Too slow. He's sluggish and wiping the sleep from his eyes while I continue to shake him.

"Epperly?" He asks groggily. "What's going on?"

"Hurry up!" I shout, my fingers scrambling to reach for the belt that's keeping him strapped to the branch. "There's a tidal wave!"

Firth's eyes widen immediately and look behind me to the wave approaching. The front of the wave is just starting to crash over the ground below us. Firth understands quickly and springs into gear immediately, getting to his feet and gathering his backpack. I make sure my backpack and spear are secured on my back and reach for Firth.

"We have to climb," Firth shouts over the roar of the water. He immediately reaches for the next branch, propelling himself high and higher into the tree. It's strange to me. My immediate thought was to wait for the water to come and then swim through it. It never occurred to me that staying in the tree might be the safer option. I follow Firth closely, knowing I don't have the time to take out my spurs and lace them on. I have to climb the tree on my own. Firth realizes my nerves and latches onto my arms, not letting go of me until I make it onto a higher, thicker branch.

"Hang on to this one," Firth orders. "Don't let go." His gaze turns down to the water below us. It's rising faster and faster and I can see the fear growing in his eyes.

"It's just water," I tell him quickly, trying to calm him. "Just, really, really strong water."

Firth's lip quivers and I can barely hear what he says over the rushing water. "I can't swim Epperly."

Of course not. They wouldn't have much use for learning to swim in Seven. The water starts whistling past us, and it's only getting louder and stronger. When the full force of the wave slams into the tree's, we're going to feel it. I can only hope Firth and I hang tight enough to the branch. Firth looks a worried, and is a little green around the edges. We both cling to the trunk of the tree.

The wave is moving fast now and any second we'll feel it. The water's higher than we anticipated and rushes just beneath our branch. Had we stayed on the one we slept on, we'd already be underwater. Even now, the water splashes across our boots and ankles. I can see in the distance it's already knocked down some of the other pine trees near the edge of the forest and I can only hope our tree is strong enough to withstands it's force. The sound of it is so loud now I can't hear what Firth is saying even though he's right beside me. I sniff the air looking for any sign of salt but find none. It's fresh water? That's a little strange. I go to tell Firth, ready to shout it if I have too, but I don't get the chance. The full impact of the wave smacks against our tree and rips it from the ground.

The last thing I see before I'm submerged in water, is Firth's blue eyes widening in fear. It's only for a second, just long enough for his gaze to lock on mine. Then, I see nothing but water.

The water in the arena is faster and harder than anything I've experienced before. Just the force of it alone is enough to rip me from the tree and toss me around the water like a rag doll. Even as an experienced swimmer, pumping my legs back and forth against the current does nothing. Every time I think I'll be able to swim through, the water tosses me aside again.

I can't see or feel anything other than water pushing and shoving me against all sides, moving too fast for me to get my bearings. Forget swimming against it, I can't stop being thrust around long enough to avoid the trees that I keep slamming into. I have no idea how deep or far I am in the water, but the black spots that are appearing at the edges of my vision remind me I need air, or it won't matter. I shove myself upwards blindly and eventually I manage to break the surface of the water. I don't know how long I was under water but the breath of air almost burns my lungs as I take it in. The water is still shoving me forward but at least now I can breathe.

I look around wildly as I try to swim with the massive current, scanning the water's surface for any sign of Firth. I don't see him anywhere and I start to panic. Is he dead? No. He can't be. My chest constricts in fear as my mind continues to explore the possibility. I, an experienced swimmer, could barely make it through that current. Logically, I have to know Firth couldn't have done much better, but I can't bear the thought of that being true. What's worse is there's no way I can hear a cannon over the rush of the water. If he does die, I won't know until tonight.

As the water shoves me forward, I manage to grab onto one of the bulkier pines, clinging desperately while the water shoves past me. It's hard to hang onto it, but it gives me a better vantage point, while the water rushes. I'm lucky I managed to tie my spear to my backpack. If I had been holding it, there's no doubt it would have been lost in the rampage of water below me.

Trees are going down immediately as the force of the wave shoves into them. I scan the line of them desperately searching for any sign of Firth. He can't be dead. I won't let him be dead. Not like this.

He's nowhere. I don't see anything other than rushing water and trees being ripped from their roots. My stomach flips, and I dig my nails deeper into the bark of the tree, willing myself not to cry. Firth is dead. He has to be. I can't help but think it's my fault. I should have the seen wave sooner. I should have woke him up sooner.

Firth is dead, and it's all my fault.

Firth is dead and he'll never know how much it hurts me. How much I cared for him.

The wave is still coming. I don't understand how there could be so much continuous water with this much force, until I remember that this is the Gamemakers water. Of course, it would be never ending. They want to make sure they get a death out of it. And they have.

They have killed Firth. The thought alone wants to send me on rant directed at the capitol so foul and loud there will be no way to avoid hearing it in the districts. But I don't, because if Firth is dead. I have to win, and people who leer at the Capitol, don't win.

I'm about to climb higher into the tree when I see something out of the corner of my eye. Clinging to the top of an unsteady pine tree is a familiar wavy-haired head. Even from behind, I can tell exactly who that is. I let out a sigh of relief. Firth is still alive.

But he might not be for much longer. The tree he is clinging too is tiny and will no doubt go down if this wave continues much longer, and I know Firth can't swim. He won't be able to manage those waters alone. He needs _me._

But if I go diving into this unstable water, I could die too. I'm a great swimmer, but this isn't the ocean. This is a flooded forest. I could hit a tree, I could be impaled by a branch. This water isn't safe.

I only have two choices; I can stay on this tree and definitely live. The water will have to stop coursing eventually and then I can just swim through it. But then I'd have to deal with the grief of my dead ally. I'd have to live without Firth. Knowing I'm the one who killed him.

Or I can risk my life. I can risk my chance at leaving this arena to help Firth. I'm ashamed at the seconds it takes me to mull over the decision. That in and of itself is the mark of a selfish person. An indecent person. I don't want to be that way. I don't want to die that way.

So, I ready myself and swan dive into the wave.

It's worse than I thought it was going to be. This is no natural wave and as I try to push my limbs against the current, I realize even I am out of my element here. This isn't like paddling through the ocean. My backpack and heavy clothes are weighing me down and branches smack past my arms and legs. As I swim all I can think about is the branches that pass me.

 _Please don't stab me_ , I silently beg. This would be an ironic death for me at least. The Capitol would relish in it. A District Four tribute dying _in water_ , intrigue! But somehow as I manage to push myself through the waters towards Firth, I don't think that will be the case. I've killed too many people in this arena to go like this. If I die, the Gamemakers will want a real showdown. They will want me to die bloody. Drowning doesn't really offer them that. For some irrational reason, I don't think they'll let me die like that.

I have to take another breath before I reach Firth. I only let my head break the surface for a second before diving back into the water, fighting against the current. I'm getting better at it the longer I do it, but my muscles still groan in protest with every inch of foot of water I make it through. When I feel the trunk of the Pine, my heart leaps in excitement. I grip the trunk, using it to hang onto while I swim upwards towards the surface. It's shaking pretty rapidly at this point, and I know it's going to go down any second, taking Firth with it. I was right to help him. It won't be standing another second.

The moment my head breaks the surface of the water, I'm searching for him, scanning the branches above for any sign of his dark hair or blue eyes. He's only feet from me. I can see his face now as he desperately clings to the tree trunk. His eyes are wide with fear, but the soften the moment he sees me, his mouth falls open in surprise.

It takes me a few seconds to manage the branches. I'm terrible at climbing stable trees and this one keeps rocking back and forth, not to mentions I'm dripping wet. Somehow I manage to make it to Firth's branch and his hands form an iron-tight grip on me as he pulls me towards him into a tight hug.

"I thought….." he can barely speak. "I thought you might be dead." His voice is raspy and weak, probably from the water. I wonder how much he swallowed. He pulls me to him, hugging me tighter. As if making sure there's no space between us. Every ounce of me wants to stay exactly like that, but the sound of rushing water below us reminds me of what's important this moment. _This_ , will have to wait.

I shake my head. "We don't have time; this tree is going to go down any second."

I reach for the belt slung across my backpack and use it to strap Firth's upper arm to mine. It will make it kind of difficult to swim like this, but at least Firth won't drown.

"What are you?" Firth looks at our connected arms and frowns in confusion.

"Just try and keep your head above the water, okay?" I tell him. He nods and I lace my fingers through his.

I'm sure the Gamemakers are involved now, because the second our fingers are linked, the tree goes down, thrusting both Firth and I into the wild waters below.

Once again, we're tossed around the waters, unable to move or see anything. Beside me I can feel Firth flailing around wildly. In four, the kids who don't know how to swim, do this too. All of their control is stripped from them the moment they end up in the water. The natural reaction is to freak out. I grip Firth's fingers tighter and refuse to let our grip loosen. I have to get us to the surface of the water. I have to make sure he can breathe. Being impaled by branches is the least of our problems if we drown.

It takes all of my strength to pull both Firth and my weight upwards through the water, toward the light above us. Firth eventually see's what I'm doing and tries to help, but he's mostly useless. He pumps his legs a little against the water and I use all my strength to shove us upwards. We eventually do reach air and Firth pants, breathing way too fast, and coughing. My lungs groan again with another intake of air.

Around us the water starts to immediately calm, so quickly it's not natural. And instead of rough, crashing waves, Firth and I are floating in a calm pool of water, where the forest used to be.

"This isn't so bad," Firth manages to say between coughs.

I don't answer. I spin around wildly, keeping his hand locked on mine and see that the water stops at the line of the trees. It doesn't reach the snowcapped mountains. Like there's some kind of wall keeping the two separated.

There's a rumble beneath us and the water whooshes downward so quickly it feels like falling out of tree. Firth and Immediately drop downwards, the water disappearing beneath us. We had to have been at least twenty feet in the air, because as the water disappears we slam hard onto the grassy floor. I land so hard I think the wind might have been knocked out of me. I want to get up, or speak but I can't. I don't think I can move. I can feel my spear and backpack beneath me, but I don't want to risk moving yet. I just lay there, soaking wet on the forest floor, while I gasp for air. Firth hasn't let go of my hand yet. I know he's beside me because his fingers are still knotted through mine.

From where I lay. I know most of the forest is gone. I can only see a few sparse trees left still standing. The rest of them must be lying on the forest floor beside us.

After a few seconds, I can breathe normally and move. On my left, I see a divot in the forest ground. When I peer closer at it. I see it's a silver disk with a hundred tiny holes on it, embedded in the forest ground. The water pours through it and disappears.

A drain.

Just like the ones in the Capitols showers and sinks. That must be how the water got here, and disappeared so fast. I look around and see a hundred of them all over the forest floor. Tentatively I reach out to stroke one. Immediately a patch of grass covers it, before my fingers are even an inch from it. The Gamemakers must not want me messing with their Game Board.

I turn to around and see Firth is lying beside me panting. I reach over and undo the belt holding our arms together with the hand he's not holding. When he sees what I'm doing, he sits upwards and helps me.

"Are you okay?" he croaks. His voice is still harsh and doesn't sound quite right.

I nod quickly. "I'm fine. Are you?"

"Fine," he answers more surely.

Then I look over at his other arm and see the inch-sized branch sticking out of his forearm A tiny red circle formed around it, bleeding into his jacket.

"You're not okay!" I exclaim, reaching for his arm, tracing the entry point with my thumb. My stomach knots just looking at it.

Firth doesn't let go of my hand. Instead he grips it tighter, and looks me directly in the eyes. "Epperly, it's fine. I didn't even feel it. Nothing fatal, okay?"

I frown and look closer at the injury. He's right. It's not fatal, but there is still a branch sticking out of his arm. I keep staring at it and Firth sighs, using his injured arm to rip the tiny branch from his arm in one fluid motion. It was only in about an inch deep, but still comes out dripping in his blood. Firth flicks it away beside him as easy as if it was a splinter.

"Are you insane?" I demand, pushing my hand down on the injury. "What if you start bleeding profusely or something? I doubt my cream will fix that!"

I drop his hand and put both of mine on the injury. I don't know if it's fear or residual nerves from what just happened with the wave, but I know I'm acting a little crazed. My heart is still racing.

Firth grabs my wrists and stops me. "Honestly, Epperly. Stop." He holds both of my wrists tight and keeps them a good foot from him. His face is calm.

"I'm okay," he repeats sternly. "Fit as fiddle.. So stop freaking out, okay? We're both fine."

"We're fine," I say nodding my head, trying to keep myself calm.

"Fine," Firth agrees smoothly, dropping my wrists. He's sitting right in front of me now, his face serene as he watches me. Both of us are weak and dripping wet from the wave. Our clothes are soaked, and hang heavy on us. But we're alive. The both of us.

My bottom lip quivers a little and I let out a sigh of pure relief. I've never been _that_ scared in water before. Never that terrified that I or someone I cared about was going to die. That wasn't hand-to hand combat with another tribute. That was pure Gamemaker interference. It's a miracle either of us made it out alive.

I try to calm myself some more and look around at the forest around us. Well, where the forest _used to be_. Now, only a few trees are still standing. The rest litter the ground, giving us a very clear view of the mountains beyond.

"Do I get to say thank you now?" Firth interrupts, a small smile creeping onto his face.

I look up from beneath my lashes and watch him carefully. "For what?"

Firth raises an eyebrow at me. "You saved my life. You think I don't know that. You're from Four. You could have managed that wave on your own, but you came back for _me_. You even handicapped yourself, by belting me to you, so I didn't drown. That means something to me, Epperly. Thank you."

Firth parts his lips nervously and blinks at me. His eyes are so transfixed on me, I can feel the nerves starting to creep back in.

"I couldn't let you die," I whisper in response.

Firth's face goes very still. He blinks again. "Because I'm your ally?" he asks very evenly.

My heart races faster now. I can feel it fluttering uncomfortably in my chest. I know why I wouldn't let him die. It's the same reason I didn't want to believe he was the mystery tribute. The reason I took him as an ally, even though it was stupid to have allies this late in the Games. It's the same reason I just risked my own life to save him. The reason my heart flutters when he looks at me like that.

"No," I say carefully. "That's not why."

Firth stares at me with an unreadable expression. Then he reaches one of his hands upwards and moves a piece of wet hair out of my eyes tucking it behind my ear. He stops and watches me, his face only inches from mine. My hand catches his, holding it before he drops it. Firth looks at our hands and then back to me.

"Why then?" he asks.

 _I want him to kiss me._ The thought is so sudden and unexpected it freezes me in place. I'm an unmoving as stone as Firth looks at me. Firth leans a little closer and then I'm sure. He _is_ going to kiss me. I've all but admitted to him that I care about him, and from the looks of it he cares for me too. We both want this.

 _No._

I get to my feet immediately and Firth stares at me in bewilderment. He's shocked. He was feeling the same thing I was. He thought something was going to happen.

"We should head for the mountains, I think," I stutter nervously. "We haven't been there yet. There might be food."

Firth still stares at me in disbelief, his mouth hangs open and his eyes are wide. I recognize the face, though I've never seen him make it. It's hurt. Firth is hurt. And I'm the one whose hurt him.

The face only lasts for a second. His perfect eyes narrowing slightly, only for a second and then he nods in agreement. "If you think that's best."

"I do."

Firth gets to his feet and pulls his axe out of his backpack. As we walk, he talks about the wave, the loss of the forest and how that will affect the players that are left. He doesn't bring up what just happened a minute ago. Or what almost happened. It's almost like it never did. He's still just as cheerful, but deep down I know I've hurt him.

I didn't have a choice. I couldn't let him kiss him, no matter how much I wanted too. It would have been bad for both of us. I'm already too attached to Firth as it is. If we took this any further, it would end in heartbreak for both of us. I can't fall in love with Firth and then watch him die. Or vice versa. It would be too painful. This is why romances don't happen in the arena.

In the Games, we have to focus on survival and winning. Nothing else. Caring for each other, will kill us. One way or the other. I couldn't let that happen.

So I join the conversation with Firth as we head for the mountains, pretending he's nothing more than my ally.


	20. The Mountain

Chapter Twenty:

Something has happened between Firth and me. Things changed earlier when I stopped anything from happening. Something has shifted.

Before, Firth and I were always on the same wavelength. We knew what the other was going to do and why. It was sort of a miracle considering we hadn't known each other that long and the situation we were in. It's hard to trust people period. It's even harder in the arena. But somehow Firth and I did. We were great allies that way. We just got each other.

Now, something's a little different. It's not something I can name, it just feels like we're wandering on different paths, even though we're walking right beside one another. We started at the foot of the mountains the second we got up from the wave. It didn't take long without the trees. We could clearly see where the mountains started.

The mountains themselves were sort of terrifying. Not once since the Games started did I wander anywhere near them. I got out of the maze and found the stream. The woods were comforting enough. I didn't need anything else. Now that the woods are gone, we have no choice but to head for the mountain. We couldn't even stay if we wanted too. The wave and the drains emptied the streams, and oddly all of the fish in them. With only one fish and half full bottles of water between us, we had no choice but to head for the Mountains. No matter how unchartered or scary they seemed. Our first priority was finding water or food, whichever we came across first, and somewhere to sleep.

I've never been on a mountain before. I've never even seen them outside of pictures. The ground is uneven and rocky, and you don't even notice it going upward until you start to pant. There's some trees and grass, but the majority of it is just dirt and upturned rocks.

Firth manages the uneven ground easily enough, but it takes me longer to climb than it does for him. I constantly trip over the larger rocks and divots in the ground. Firth always stops to help me, and it only serves as a constant reminder that he'd be doing better if I weren't here. I almost suggest we split up, but the paralyzing fear and anxiety I feel every time I even think of it, stops me from suggesting it to him. As far as surviving goes, Firth is a hundred time better than I am. Faced with another tribute, I'd kick his ass. But survival skills? All I can do is feed myself. Unless there's another tidal wave, I probably won't be too much of a match against any other natural element, and my climbing skills are severely lacking. It's a wonder I've lived this long. I guess I wouldn't have without my spear, but a lot of luck it's doing me here on the mountain.

It's colder here than it is anywhere else in the arena, and I keep wanting to wrap my arms tighter around myself to combat it. I have to keep my mouth shut tight to keep my teeth from chattering as we ascend higher and higher on the mountain. Once again, Firth seems unaffected. He's not even wearing his jacket. I scowl, stupid, lucky District Seven resident. The constant never-ending District Four sunshine hasn't helped me much in this arena.

"You know," Firth says as we climb higher. "That wave might not have been meant to kill anyone."

I stare at him as if he has three heads. "You do remember you almost drowned in _that wave_ , right?"

Firth nods as if he already thought of that. "Well, yeah I know that, but-"

"But what?" I ask quickly. "I'm probably one of the only tributes left who can swim. The Gamemakers have to know that, and yet they still set that thing on us. How can you defend them? You think they're above interfering to kill us?" I can feel my voice rising with anger, surpassing my normal tone, but I can't help it. I'm still emotionally spent from that wave, and furious with the Gamemakers for doing it. Alone, it would have been fine, but facing the fear of watching Firth die had been a little too much. And now he thinks it's no big deal? No wonder my voice has reached that squeaky quality. I don't try to stop it. If another tribute hears me, so be it. I'd love to run into Fane or Garnet right about now. It might do me some good to take my mind off everything by sparring with Garnet. Firth's comment has upset me too much. He can't really believe the Gamemakers wouldn't try to kill us.

Firth stops and shakes his head furiously. "No, Epperly. You misunderstood. I'm not defending the Gamemakers. I'm sure they knew it could kill a few of us. They probably knew _I_ would die, but I don't think that's why they set it. I think there was a bigger reason than killing off one tribute from Seven."

"What reason?" I ask him, my hands on my hips. I know it looks a little juvenile, and I see Firth crack a smile as he watches me do it.

"Look," Firth says. He hesitates for a second before placing his hand on my shoulders and to facing me toward the fallen trees, and the concrete maze beyond it.

"All I see is a dilapidated forest and the maze," I tell him.

Firth smiles. "Exactly. Before the trees were in the way of everything. They kept us hidden. Now? The only places we have to hide are the maze or the mountains. As much as I'd think to think I'm important enough to the Capitol to personally take out, I realized they didn't destroy the forest to kill us, they did it to drive us together. Now there's _five_ of us and only _two_ places to hide."

Realization takes a second to wash over me, and then I know Firth is right. The wave wasn't meant to kill us. It was designed to make sure someone else did. That's why they drained the streams too. I was too dependent on it. There has to be another source of water on the mountain.

"Not two places," I tell Firth, "just one."

"What do you mean?"

I turn to face him. "They dried up the streams. There's no water down there, and the arena has to have water or we will all die of dehydration."

Firth's eyebrows raise as he starts to understand what I mean.

"The only water left in this arena is on the Mountain," I say. "That means, at some point, there will be five of us on this mountain, if there's not already."

Firth's face is even and saddened. "I guess we'll have to be a little quieter then, huh?"

I shake my head. "No, everyone else has probably split up by now. I can take one tribute at a time, especially with your help."

Firth chuckles. "Something tells me you don't need my help."

I shrug. "It certainly wouldn't hurt, Firth. You did figure out the Gamemakers plan with the wave. You're a genius."

Firth grins, "I have my moments, but it was the Gamemakers who came up with the idea."

"You still realized it," I tell him, "I never would have."

Firth shrugs and gives me a gently shove in the shoulders. "That's because you're fight first, think later. I'm not."

I scrunch my face together and frown. "Fight first, think later? That makes me sound like a Career."

"For the hundredth time, Four. You _are_ a Career."

He's smiling and I know he's kidding, but something about it ring true. I never thought of myself as a Career, simply because I didn't fit the categories. I didn't train at the academy. I didn't volunteer. I was reaped. I wasn't arrogant. I never thought I'd win. Hell, I didn't think I could _kill._ But I did. Three times now.

I am a Career. I was well fed. I had skills. I had the bloodbath advantage, and I killed to stay alive. I am the people I would have hated if I was at home watching. My bottom lip quivers at the thought of my family watching _me_ turn into the people we despised. I always thought those ruthless Careers didn't deserve to win.

Firth looks at me with wide, concerned eyes. " I didn't mean that as an insult. I meant you're, you know, capable."

I can feel the tears starting to brim in my eyes now. I try to blink them back, but Firth has already seen them.

"Are you upset?" Firth asks softly. He reaches out to hold my shoulder. "I meant that as a compliment to you. When this started, nobody thought you had much of a chance, you proved them wrong by becoming a Career."

My bottom lip is quivering so badly now, I have to bite it to keep it steady. "I don't want to be a Career, Firth," I say quickly. "You don't think I know what I've become in here? What I've done? I've killed three people. The only reason I'm alive is because I fight first, think later to quote you. I kill people without hesitating. I know I've become a Career, and I know what comes with that. I don't deserve to win."

One tear manages to escape through my lashes, but I wipe it before it has time to roll down my cheek.

"Epperly," Firth says quietly. "That's not true. You allied with that girl from eight, even when from the sounds of it, you could have killed her easily."

"I did kill her," I correct him.

"Only when you had too," Firth reminds me. "She turned on you."

"Still counts."

"It's not the same," he says firmly. "And you saved me, twice now since we've been in the arena. Do you think any of the other Careers would have done that?"

He raises an eyebrow at me and I don't give him the satisfavtion of answering. He's proven his point and knows it.

"I don't remember Garnet taking a knife to the hand for me," Firth adds.

I smile. "I got it Firth, thanks."

He grins and ignores me. "it definitely wasn't Kenrick who belted me to him to keep from letting me drown."

"You have made your point," I tell him playfully.

"I could go on," Firth offers a smile. I shake my head and he wraps an arm around my shoulder to comfort me. It's a sweet gesture but as soon as he does we both immediately tighten and he moves it. After what happened in the forest, I guess we've decided minimal touching is the way to go. It seems stupid but I also can't deny the way my heart skipped when he did it.

"So," Firth says without skipping a beat. "When do you think we should stop the hiking excursion?"

I sigh. "I don't know. I guess when we find water, food or somewhere to sleep."

Firth groans. "That could be _hours_ from now." He scans my face for any signs of relenting, and finds none.

"How are you not exhausted already?" he complains. "You're like 1/3 of my size. You should have 1/3 of the stamina."

I chuckle at the way he drags out the end of his sentences. He sounds like a little kid when he does that.

"I'm still a little keyed up," I admit. "You know from earlier."

Firth nods. "I hear near-death experiences do that to a person."

I nod. "I'll relax when we find somewhere to hunker down for the evening."

"Well," Firth says scanning the surrounding area. "There has to be somewhere around here. I'm guessing you don't want to climb up another tree?"

"Not particularly."

"Alright, then," he chuckles. "We'll keep looking."

Its hours later before we can stop. We scan every inch of the mountain and don't find any sign of life; no water, no animals, and no other tributes. By the time the sun starts to set, we're exhausted and beat from the arduous day we've had.

The temperature has dropped too and it's by far the coldest I've been in the arena. My teeth chatter so much, even Firth hears it. He's put his jacket on, but he keeps offering to give it me. Every time he offers, I give him a frozen shake of my head and he frowns. I don't care how used to the weather he is, I couldn't stand to watch him walk around in just a t-shirt, no matter how cold I am.

Eventually, we make it to one of the smaller peaks of the mountain. I'm so exhausted, hungry and thirsty, I'm about to drop to my feet in the middle of the rocks. Firth is a good thirty yards ahead of me when I see him start to leap up and down from excitement. He's back in front of me in seconds. A large, excited smile plastered across his face.

"Did you find water?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Not yet. But I found somewhere for us to spend the night."

He leads me to a steep cliff on the edge of the Mountain. There's a small flat plateau before the cliff. I lean over the edge slightly and see the steep drop into rough rocks below.

"Are you going to push me?" I ask curiously.

Firth chuckles. "Yeah. I'm honestly getting a little tired of you. Thought it was about time to put you out of your misery."

I smile. "Well, make sure I don't pull you down with me."

"Of course. I'm no amateur."

Firth nods his head to the right. I follow his gaze and see that beside the chunky rock wall of the mountain is a slight, dark alcove. It's not quite deep enough to be considered a cave. It's too shallow and exposed to be a cave. But it makes the perfect little spot to curl up and hide for the night.

"Thank Panem," I sigh.

"I thought you'd be excited," Firth says following me over to the spot. It's just wide enough for the two of us to curl up inside of it. The proximity to the edge of the cliff isn't exactly comforting, but I'm so exhausted I don't really care. The moment we're sitting down, I open my backpack and take out our water and the only fat fish we have left. It's at least a day old. By tomorrow, it will have gone bad. As for water, we have one bottle that's 2/3s full. I take a hearty sip and then hand it to Firth, who looks at it gratefully.

I break the fish in half and give him half of that too. We haven't had anything to eat all day and I know by now, he must be starving. To his credit, he takes the fish from me slowly and still manages to eat it civilly.

By the time we finish eating, it's completely dark. The moon offers us a little light but not much. The Panem anthem plays and the seal appears in the sky, but nothing else. Much as they Gamemakers may have tried, no one died today.

I tell Firth I don't see the need in sleeping shifts tonight. The alcove is covered by most sides. Someone would have to be wandering over to the edge of the cliff to find us, so I'm not worried about other tributes. And hopefully, watching our near drowning today was enough excitement for the audience and the Gamemakers won't interfere again. I could use at least one night of rest. I haven't slept much since Mar was my ally. I don't even know how long ago that was anymore.

"Hey Firth," I call into the darkness.

I know he's somewhere beside me, but I can't see him in the dark. The alcove isn't very big, though. I know if I were to reach one of my limbs out, I'd find him.

"Yeah?" he answers.

I can see the outline of his face now Half of it is illuminated in the moonlight. I roll onto my side so I can look at him while I talk.

"How long have we been in here?" I ask him quietly.

Firth blinks slowly, thinking. "I don't really know," he admits. "I lost count after a week. Maybe twelve or thirteen days?"

"It seems like longer," I whisper. I close my mouth right after to keep the sound of my chattering teeth from filling the alcove.

"How cold are you?" Firth asks quietly and I sigh. Clearly, I didn't do a very goo job of masking my freezing.

"I'm fine," I manage to say. "Fit as a fiddle."

"You're shivering," Firth says.

"No I'm not," I say, shivering.

I hear a scraping sound beside me and suddenly I feel Firth side pressed against me.

"Sleeping against someone helps keep you warm," Firth says. "Basic survival. You can sleep beside me if you need too. You won't get any funny business from me. I promise."

I raise my head to look him in the eye while I shiver. Even the slight contact we have now is helping tremendously.

"You really don't mind?" I ask.

Firth shakes his head. "Not in the slightest."

I know it might be crossing the line I drew in the sand earlier, but I'm so freezing I don't care. Firth lies flat on his back and I curl up on my side, pressed so close to him that there is no space between our bodies. He unzips his jacket and pulls it over my chest. Gingerly I rest my head on his arm. For a few minutes, neither of us move or speak. We're so still and so silent, it almost feels like we're not breathing. I know it's a uncomfortable position to be in. Lying against someone you barely know. It's especially uncomfortable after what happened this morning, but neither of us mention that. It's a testament to how much of a stand-up guy Firth is that he was still willing to help me out like this. He's better than I thought. That makes this whole thing so much worse.

After a minute, my teeth chattering stops and the shivering starts to subside too. The heat from Firth's body is doing wonders. I have to resist the urge to press my face deeper into his side. Eventually, I let out a sigh of relief as I finally feel a little warm.

"Better?" Firth asks quietly.

"Yes," I whisper. "Thank you. I know this can't be comfortable. I appreciate it."

"Trust me," Firth assures me. "I don't mind."

For a while we just lay there in silence. Neither of us knows what to say to the other. The sheer of act of lying here like this is so intimate, it's forcing all kids of harsh realities onto us. Ones we've made clear we aren't going to talk about.

"I keep thinking I should have let you kill Fane that night," Firth whispers.

I look up so I can see him in the eyes. "Why didn't you?"

Even in the dark I can see the blush that fills Firth's cheeks. He takes a second before he answers "Two reasons. The first, as much confidence as I have in your skill to kill Careers, the idea of you and Fane going head to head gave me a heart attack."

I let out a small laugh and so does Firth.

"I think I could take him," I say confidently.

"I happen to think so too, but I didn't really think it was worth the risk," He tells me. "That kid is menacing. Any guy with a pony tail like that is bad news."

We both laugh and I can hear the vibration in Firth's chest. After a second, we fall silent.

"What was the second reason?" I ask.

"What?"

"You said you had two reasons," I remind him. "You only told me one."

"Oh, right," Firth says quickly.

"Well?" I ask. "What was the second reason?"

Firth lets out a low sigh. "If I tell you, you have to promise you won't freak out like you did this morning okay? Because I'm too exhausted to go on another hiking excursion to avoid talking about things we don't want to talk about, okay?"

I'm suddenly very glad we're in the dark and Firth can't see my face, because I know I have gone bright red. I nod my head very slowly.

Firth sighs. "I was afraid that if we killed Fane, and made it to the top four, you might want to go off on your own, and I didn't want to separate yet."

So I was right. Firth didn't want to separate. He wanted the two of us to stay together.

"I wouldn't have left," I tell him. "We promised we'd stay together until top three."

"I didn't know if you meant that," he says quietly.

"I did," I assure him.

Firth doesn't move. "Well, that's good then."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "It is."

Neither of us say anything else after that. Eventually, Firth falls asleep and his quiet snoring fills the tiny alcove. It takes me longer to doze off. My mind is to alive to fall asleep. We're at top five. Five tributes left. Only two people have to die, before Firth and I separate. That's non-negotiable. I will not Firth and I be the last two tributes alive. It's too cruel.

Though, lying here beside him, it's impossible to imagine a world where this kind, charismatic person is dead and I get to live. Where the boy who keeps people from dying of hypothermia doesn't get to live, and the _Career_ does. It doesn't seem fair. He deserves to win more than I do. And suddenly I realize, that when we get to top three I'm hoping _I'm_ the one that gets slaughtered, and that's a very, very dangerous thought to have.

It's easy to forget lying here, that one of us is going to die. I have to decide who it would rather it be.

I have to decide if winning the Games is worth it.


	21. The Other Tribute On the Mountain

I wake up the next morning sprawled across Firth. When my eyes drift open, I realize my head has been resting on his chest all night. Great, so much for our boundaries. I keep messing this stupid thing up. I need to be more careful.

Firth is still out cold and I slide off of him as carefully as I can. I was so cold last night that laying like that didn't bother me, but now in the light of day I remember we need to keep our distance.

I dig around in my backpack until I find the water bottle, almost stabbing my thumb on the climbing spurs in the process. When I take out the bottle, I sigh. We're running low. I only take a tiny sip before I put it back. Firth will need some when he wakes up too.

I curl up on the opposite side of the wall of the alcove and decide watch Firth sleep. He looks peaceful like that and younger too, but people always look younger when they sleep. Boys especially, I learned that from my brothers. When they were asleep was the only time I ever saw them not being loud or throwing things around the tiny house.

Firth tosses a little and utters some strange incoherent phrases. It makes me smile. I found out last night that Firth talks in his sleep. It woke me up at first, making me think something was wrong, but then after a few false alarms, I realized he was still asleep.

He talks again and this time its louder. He says things that make me freeze; Games, Cornucopia, Maze, Wave, Trees. The things he's talking about are the things in the arena, which means he's dreaming about them, and he's having nightmares. Nobody has _good_ dreams about the arena. I can tell just from the way his limbs thrash. Nightmares are part of being in the arena. It's unavoidable. You can't live like this and not see the horrible things at night. I've had them ever night since I've been in here. And something tells me they won't stop if I ever make it out of here. You can't live through the things you see and do in here.

I take a few minutes to consider whether or not I should wake Firth up. I want him to get enough sleep, but I also don't want him to suffer through those nightmares. If his area anything like mine, sometimes being awake is better.

" _Epperly_."

He says my name so clearly that I'm almost positive he's awake. But his eyes are still closed and he's definitely asleep. He's either dreaming about me or having a nightmare about me. Either way, he's thinking about me, and that's bad. He was in my dream last night too. But in my dream, he stood over my bloodied corpse, forced to yank Garnet's mace out of my skull. I figure his dream has to be at least a little more cheerful than _that._

Firth only stirs for a few more minutes and then his eyes drift open. He reaches out and then sits up abruptly, scanning the tiny alcove with an odd sense of panic. When he sees me sitting there, he relaxes.

"You alright?" I ask him.

Firth takes a very deep breath. "I thought you were dead or something," he says, rubbing his hands over his face.

I shake my head and pass him the water bottle. "Why would I be dead?"

"Because you weren't there," Firth groans, leaning back against the wall. "And we're in the tail end of the Games. Thinking something happened to you is not an unreasonable fear to have."

"You think someone would have come around and killed me, but left you alive?" I ask with a chuckle. "That would be a really stupid winning strategy, don't you think?"

Firth rolls his eyes. "Alright, I get it. It was stupid. Forgive me for being concerned about your safety."

"Very stupid," I joke with him. "But also very sweet."

Firth's cheeks turn a little shade of pink, and then so do mine. Immediately he gets up and stretches his legs. I follow him. After a peaceful night of sleep, I almost forgot how high up we were, but one look over the steep edge of the cliff, reminds me.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Firth asks from behind me.

"Food and water," I tell him. "Otherwise we'll die before anyone gets the chance to kill us."

Firth smiles. "Alright. Sounds good."

We stretch for a few minutes and take a few more sips of water before we head off in search of sustenance. If the day is anything like the one before, I know we'll need to prepare ourselves. Yesterday was brutal.

We start out climbing upward, just like yesterday, and although I'm a little quicker than before, I'm still slow. Firth is in a way better mood today, and purposefully goes slower to match my space. I don't know what caused the better mood, but I'm not going to question it. He's good company like this.

It takes hours of hiking and we still don't find any water or any sign of other tributes. Not that the latter bothers me very much. We have so much spare time walking, we decide to talk while do it. We go on and on about our districts and our families, and what we like to do in our spare time. Firth tells me about how he used to play hide and seek in the woods with the neighborhood kids and how he makes tiny hand-crafted boxes with the extra wood at home. Last Christmas he made his mother a jewelry box.

He asks me about what I do at home and I tell him how I spend most of my time in the water; fishing, swimming, searching for shells. He makes a little face when I talk about jumping through waves with Ginger.

"Still not over the wave?" I joke, poking him in the ribs.

"It only happened yesterday," Firth reminds me sternly. "Give me another few days before I'm over the near-death experience."

"You get two, after that you're going swimming," I tell him.

"Over my dead body," Firth shakes his head.

I grin. "That can be arranged. Just say the word."

Firth gives me a dark look and I break out into a low chuckle. He shakes his head disapprovingly.

"No more death jokes," he says sternly. "It's morbid."

"I've got news for you, our entire lives are morbid right now," I remind him.

"Doesn't mean I need a constant reminder. No more Hunger Games Humor."

"But that's my coping mechanism. Do you want me to go insane in here?" I ask.

"I'm starting to think you already have."

"Mean."

Firth's quiet laughter fills the air around me and I can't help but smile as we continue to walk.

We keep going for another hour and soon my legs start to feel weak. My stomach is growling too. So far being in the arena hasn't really been a problem when it comes to food. Having access to a spear and a stream meant I never went hungry. I was surprisingly well fed for being in the Hunger Games. Being well-fed lets you continue on walking for days on end. But when you're hungry? It becomes a lot harder. I suddenly have a lot of sympathy for Hawke. No wonder he tried to kill me over a couple of charred fish. He must have been _really_ hungry. I'm only starting to understand what that's like. But it's the thirst that really starts to suck. Firth and I finished off the bottle of water an hour or so ago, and my throat is starting to become sticky, dry and uncomfortable.

'Are you as thirsty as I am?" Firth asks.

I nod bitterly. "Definitley. If we don't find water soon, I'm going to punch a tree."

Firth laughs. "And damage those pretty little hands of yours? What would Finnick think of that?"

"I don't care that much right now," I reply glumly. "If Finnick really cared, he's send some water our way."

I look at the sky. "Hey Finnick!" I shout. "Some water would be nice!"

I wait a few seconds but there's no sign of any silver parachutes in the sky. My mentor obviously doesn't care that we're thirsty.

"Guess we're not a priority anymore," I shrug.

Firth shakes his head. "I doubt it. I'm sure Finnick wants you to win. Gifts this late in the Games are expensive. Finnick just probably doesn't want to waste it. Maybe were close to the water or something."

"Yeah maybe," I say quietly. "Or the people of the Capitol are betting on Fane or Garnet. Or the mystery tribute."

"The boy from three?" Firth asks. "No way. He's probably hiding in a cave somewhere."

"He's killed quite a few tributes, Firth. Don't forget that."

"I'm still not worried about him yet. Let's just focus on finding water."

It's afternoon before we have any sort of reprieve. We're walking uphill when I start to hear the familiar sound of rushing water. At first, I start to think I'm imagining it, and that Firth's suspicions of my growing insanity are true, but the higher up we get, the louder it gets. It's definitely water. We're close to it too.

"Do you hear that?" I exclaim at Firth. "Water!"

I stop him and point in the direction of the sound. It takes a second but a smile breaks across Firth's face as he hears it.

I take off at a quick, skip in the direction of the water, with Firth trailing behind me on my heels. I haven't been this excited to find water since the Games started. That was the last time I was this hungry or thirsty, and back then I still had my rations from the Careers. _This_ is even better.

It only takes a second before we find it the source of the sound. There's a long, wide plateau covered in a very shallow stream.

"We found water!" I shout happily. "We're not going to die of dehydration!"

"Hip Hip Hooray!" Firth finishes. I hand him my spear so I can dive down and kneel in the shallow water, splashing my face with it. It's fresh water too, easily boiled. A frown crosses my face when I look closer at it though. Even from here, I can tell it's too shallow for any fish to swim through. It's too loud too. The sound of water is crashing, way too loud for a shallow stream. I follow it slowly to its edge, where it abruptly stops on a rocky cliff. The stream disappears down the plateau and pours into a deep lagoon, covered on all sides by leafy foliage. Suddenly I realize what it is.

"A waterfall," I say.

"What did you say?" Firth asks, coming up beside me. In his hands both of our bottles and canteens are full of water.

I point to the waterfall and Firth follows me gaze, realizing what it is as I do.

"That's even more terrifying than the wave," Firth shudders, walking back to the safety of the plateau.

"Come on," I tease. "You can't tell me you're afraid of that? It's beautiful."

"Very afraid. I still can't swim," Firth points out. "That fact hasn't changed in twenty-four hours."

"I might have to try and change that," I tell him. "How about after we're fed and watered, I give you some swimming lessons?"

"Or," Firth suggests, shaking his head. "We could do literally anything else."

I chuckle and follow him back to the edge of the stream. It's serene here. The sound of the waterfall is pretty much all you can hear, and it seems a little less cold here than anywhere else on the mountain.

"There's no fish here," I say sadly as we trudge through the shallow waters.

Firth cocks an eyebrow. "I guess there all down in the lagoon. We can hike down there after we boil the water, if you want."

I sigh. That hike is going to take at least half a day, probably more, and it would be stupid to do it at night. We'd have to go in the morning. Which means another day without food. My stomach grumbles unhappily at the thought.

"I guess that's fine," I say halfheartedly. My eyes are still locked on the waterfall. It's not that high of a jump. I could make it land perfectly in the water. But Firth still can't swim. There's no way I'll ever be able to convince him to jump off a cliff. _Especially_ into a large body of water. I'd probably have a better chance convincing him to jump if there _wasn't_ any water to break our fall.

Firth holds up the full bottles of water. "Should we chance boiling them here or find somewhere better hidden?"

I don't get the chance to answer him. Everything happens too quickly. I don't see Fane until he slams into Firth knocking him down against the rocky of the stream. I don't even have enough time to scream before he slams Firth's head down against the bedrock over and over.

I don't hesitate, taking off at a run, splashing through the stream as I run for Fane. I'm furious I don't have my spear. It's clutched in Firth's hand, but Fane doesn't seem to be armed either. I don't know where his sword is, but it's not with him. In fact, Fane doesn't look like himself at all. His hair is wild, matted and flecked with spots of blood. His face is covered with bruises, scraps and dried blood. He sneers at me viciously as he slams Firth's head against the rock another time. Firth stops fighting just as I reach Fane, ripping him off of Firth. I didn't hear a Cannon as I ran, so I wasn't sure if Firth was even still alive. But the second I rip Fane of of him. I hear his soft, whimpering. He's still alive. If only barely.

But there's still Fane to contend with. I only had a second of advantage, and I still couldn't reach my spear. Fane's furious now and slams his fist against my stomach, knocking me down into the shallow stream. Now were both horizontal, fighting against one another in the shallow water, weaponless while Firth lies in pain. Fane's on top of me in seconds, slamming his fist against my stomach again, harder and harder, until my stomach flattens against my spine. I do my best to fight him off but it's difficult in the water. I can't get my bearings. I bring my knee up against his groin and he groans in pain, while I try to bring my thumb down against his eyeball. I manage to press down on it hard enough to make him scream, but he catches me hand, squeezing it so hard he almost breaks my wrist.

"You and the boy from Seven?" Fane spits cruelly. "Isn't it my lucky day?"

I kick him as hard as I can and his grip on me lessens. I take the opportunity to try and scramble away from him faster. I'm closer to the waterfall than I am Firth. I can only hope the fear of the cliff's edge will keep Fane from following me. It doesn't, he's at my feet in seconds, trying to drag me back towards him.

From the side of my vision I can see Firth start to get up, and my heart skips happily. Thank Panem, he's not dead. But he's shaky, too shaky to make it to me in time. Too shaky to stop Fane from killing me. I'm all on my own here. Fane locks his hand on my throat again and presses down as hard as he can, trying to lock my airway. He wants me dead. He's going to choke me to death, and then go back and finish off Firth.

I do the only thing I can think of. I grab his wrist, pushing it down on my throat tighter, helping him. For a second Fane looks confused and elated. That second distraction is all I need. That's when I fling us both over the edge of the waterfall.


	22. The Agreement

Chapter Twenty-Two:

"EPPERLY!"

Firth screaming my name is the last thing I hear before Fane and I fly over the edge of the cliff. That and the sound of Fane's aggravated grunts as we plunge towards the lagoon. We're falling fast through the air. I only have time to silently pray that Fane can't swim. He's from District two, so I have no idea if they're taught that. I really hope not. We're only in the air for a few seconds and then we slam into the water full force.

The water slaps against our bodies so hard that it hurts. My backpack is almost ripped from my shoulders by the sheer force of the fall. It takes me a few seconds under the water to get myself together and swim back to the surface. Once I do, I take a deep breath and search for any sign of Fane. Panic starts to set in when I realize. I don't see him anywhere on the surface of the lagoon. How is that possible? I'm sure he fell over the edge with me. I heard him screaming. I saw him hit the water. Any reasonable person would have come up for air after a crash and fall like that. Could he have drowned already? That seems unlikely. I doubt there was enough time. Maybe he broke his legs and is drowning under the water? Or he hit his head on the bottom? Or broke his spine? I didn't hear a Cannon but I wouldn't have underwater. Maybe I already missed it. If I can't find his body, I'll have to search the sky tonight. Could killing Fane really be that easy?

My question is answered as I'm abruptly pulled under the water by a rough hand. I'm caught so off-guard I actually scream, before the water fills my mouth.

The first thing I do under the surface of the water is open my eyes. Sure enough, it was Fane who pulled me under.

He's trying to drown me. Under the water, he locks his hands on both sides of my head and tries to hold my head down. I kick and scratch at him, but he's careful and I can't reach him.

So, he can swim? That's annoying. I was really counting on him not being able too. I guess that doesn't really matter now.

I know I only have a few minutes to struggle against him. I can hold my breath for a long time, but eventually I will drown without air, and Fane's grip is iron-tight. I struggle against him, trying to rip his hands from my head, but he's too strong and the water is making it difficult. I keep struggling but as the two-minute mark passes it starts to become harder, and I lose strength. As I continue to fight, I realize something horrific. He could do it. Fane could actually drown me. Once again, I'm faced with the realization that I could die in the water. The District Four tribute might actually drown. That's infuriating, but not awful. There are a hundred more bloody ways to die, or be tortured. I think back to Kenrick's ideas and shudder. And surely Garnet would make a gruesome show of my death. I don't even want to consider what she has planned. Whatever it is will be painful and bloody. I wouldn't put it past her to recreate Wilder's death with my head.

Maybe dying like this is better. At least my family won't have to watch me being tortured. This is a hundred times better than Wilder's death. That thought almost makes me stop fighting. _Almost._ I can't give just give up. I have to give it every ounce of my strength I have left. I struggle a little more against Fane, but his head is above water. He still has oxygen and has retained all of his force. He keeps my head forced firmly under the surface of the water. He's pushing so hard, he might snap my neck before I even have the chance to drown.

That's when I realize how close I am to death. To this whole thing being over. All I can hope is that if I die in this lagoon, Firth wins the Games. It will take Fane at least half a day to get back to that plateau, by then Firth will be gone. Hiding off somewhere while he recovers. I'm going to die, and Firth needs to win. That's what I'm thinking when the black spots start to cover my vision and I feel my aching lungs to start to give up.

I can feel myself slipping when there's another crash in the water. The sheer force of the crashing surface knocks both Fane and I forward, and Fane's grip on me slips. I have just enough time to break the surface and take another greedy gulp of air, when I see it.

The crash in the water was Firth. He jumped over the waterfall and landed beside us.

Firth. Jumped. The. Cliff.

The same Firth whose terrified of water. The Firth who almost drowned in a tidal wave yesterday. The firth who would have if I hadn't been there.

The Firth who _can't swim_ , just jumped over a cliff into a large body of water. To save _me_.

I'm stunned. Absolutely speechless. Then I feel terror. Terror at the thought of Firth drowning, of anything happening to him. He risked his life, to save me, or make sure I was okay. Hunger Games or not, I don't deserve the kid.

He's flailing now, struggling to keep himself upright in the water. Fane is closer to him and has already spotted him, a horrifying glare in his eyes.

I lunge for Fane, swimming as fast as I can, despite the almost drowning. I reach him just as Firth's eyes widen. He clearly thought Fane would drown him too.

I kick Fane in his back and he stumbles. I grab his neck and wrap my arms around it, squeezing as hard as I can. Fane kicks and thrashes, trying to scratch my arms as I squeeze but I don't care. I'm trying to end this as quickly as possible. If it were just me, I'd make it slow and painful. I'd drown him just like he tried to down me. But I can see Firth is struggling to keep his head above water, and taking pleasure in Fane's death is not worth risking Firth's. I see my spear floating a few inches away from me in the lagoon and smile. Firth must have thrown it over for me. I twist my arms and hear something on Fane snap. I think it's his neck. He starts coughing and choking but he's still moving, and there's no Cannon, so he's not dead yet. I leave him, choking and floating and reach for my spear.

By the time I swim back to Fane, he's practically blue and I'm sure he can't breathe. I end it quickly, stabbing my spear into the back of his head.

The cannon rings out loudly. It's like music to my ears.

A dark red puddle pools around him in the water in a gruesome manner, but I don't stop to watch it. I keep my spear firmly in my right hand and swim over to Firth. He's still struggling not to drown. I latch my arm, under his and keep his head above the surface, while I drag him to the bank of the lagoon. As soon as we reach it, he says in the water, clutching the bank for dear life. I don't know if he's too tired or too hurt to climb onto land, but either we he stays in the water, using the edge to keep himself upright while he coughs. I wait until he stops coughing before I begin my tirade.

"ARE YOU INSANE?" I yell at him, leaning against the same bank so I can look him in the eyes. "You can't swim! You could have drowned!" I give him a firm shove in the shoulders.

I don't know why I'm shouting at him. I'm too upset to think rationally. Upset I had to kill someone else. Upset he almost died. Tears start to leak from my eyes and my chest rises and falls in anger.

Firth stares at me, bewildered, with his hair still stuck to his forehead. Even with his shock and confusion, his blue eyes sparkle.

"He was going to drown you!" he shouts back at me. He's angry now too. I can see the pink spots forming on his cheeks as he yells. "What I was I supposed to do? Let him kill you?"

"You shouldn't have risked your own life!" I shout back. "That's not how this works!"

Firth blinks at me again and his mouth falls open in frustration. "That's _exactly_ how this works!" he tells me. "You keep me alive, and I keep you alive. How is that wrong? I thought that was the whole point of you and me!"

To that, I have nothing to say. There is nothing to say that. Nothing I say will be able to express how I feel right now. The boy in front of me is beautiful and selfless, as much as I hate to admit it. Someone who risked his life and faced his biggest fear to keep me alive.

I suddenly don't care that we're both soaking wet. That we're thirsty or hungry. That were stuck in this arena, in the middle of the Hunger Games. None of it matters.

"What?" Firth asks. "Can't think of anything else to yell at me about?"

I shake my head. I can't think of anything else. Instead, I kiss him.

I wrap my arms around Firth's neck and pull his face toward mine, closing the distance between us. For a second, he's immobile underneath me, but as soon as he realizes what's happening, he responds enthusiastically, slipping one hand under my jaw and moving his mouth against mine. This is the third kiss I've had since I've been reaped. And the only one I've actually wanted to happen. I don't even think about how it can't last. There's time for that later. For now, I just enjoy it.

We only break apart when the hovercraft sounds overhead, coming to pick up Fane's body. It shakes the water aggressively and knocks Firth and I apart. Firth groans pulls away from me.

"I finally had one second to enjoy something and forget the Hunger Games is happening," he says wistfully. "I guess that's better than nothing."

He helps us both onto the bank of the lagoon. He doesn't say anything and neither do I. He just wraps an arm around my shoulders. The hovercraft is quick. The moment it pulls Fane's body from the lagoon it disappears.

There's a prolonged moment of silence once it's gone. Both Firth and I are waiting for the other one to say something. To address what just happened in the water. I know it's technically my turn. I initiated it. But something stops me. It's so nice just sitting here, leaning my head against Firth while he plays absentmindedly with a strand of my hair.

"Are you going to talk first?" Firth asks. "Or should I?"

I sigh. The silence was nice while it lasted. If only for a few minutes.

I turn around so I can face Firth head on. He's blue eyes keep darting across my face searching for any sign of emotion or preview of what I'm going to say.

"I don't know what to say," I tell him. "You knew how I felt yesterday. The only reason I didn't act on it is because you and I both know it will end badly."

Firth lets out a low sigh. "So? This whole thing is going to end badly. Even if we were nothing more than allies, it would be hard when one of us dies."

"So, you want to make it worse?" I ask him. "You want be connected in _another_ way? Do you have any idea how hard that's going to make this for the one who lives?"

Firth slips his hand under my chin delicately. "I can't speak for you, but if you die, it will already be incredibly hard for me. Kissing you, won't change that."

"It would be hard for me too," I tell him. "That's why I was trying to put some distance between us."

Firth grins. "Well, how did that work out for you?"

"Incredibly poorly," I tell him. "Not even twenty-four hours later and I'm forcing my tongue down your throat. Sorry."

"You never have to apologize for _that_ ," Firth tells me, continuing to chuckle. "Not once, alright? You can kiss me any time you like."

"That's the problem, I can't."

Firth groans. "Look Epperly, there's only winner in this thing. It might not even be one of us. For all we know, we could be murdered in our sleep tonight, with our pictures in the sky with Fane. So why don't we just ignore the obvious complications of all of this, and enjoy ourselves. We can deal with the rest if there's something to deal with, okay?"

I consider his offer for a few seconds, and realize he's right. It doesn't matter now. I already care about him enough that his death will shatter me. Kissing won't make much of a difference now. Maybe he's right. Maybe we'll both die and won't have to worry about.

"Fine. We won't worry about it, until we have too," I agree.

"Good," Firth say happily, and bends his head down to kiss me again. Just like before, it's dizzying, and a hundred times better now that Firth is on land, and can focus on not drowning. His hands move to my waist and pull me back towards him. I slip my hands under his jaw. I've never felt like this before. Not in seventeen years. There's never been one person who made me feel the way Firth does. Leave it to me, to find someone I care about in the Games. My bad odds seem to only be getting worse.

Firth pulls me closer to him, so that our bodies are pressed right against each other. Even though were both drenched from the lagoon, Firth feels incredibly warm. I kind of like that our clothes are soaked with water. In some strange way, it feels like home. Like Firth and I could just be one of those normal couples from District four who kiss on the beach.

One of my hands slips to the back of Firth's neck and knots in his hair. After a minute, I start to realize they're sticky. I open my eyes and see they're covered in blood.

 _Of course!_ I was so distracted by kissing him, I forgot that he hit his head. I pull away from him and Firth groans again.

'Don't tell me you've already changed your mind about me, Four?" he jokes.

"You're bleeding," I tell him showing him my hands.

He sighs. "Not badly. It's just a tiny, little cut on my neck. Nothing considering we both almost drowned. Why don't you and I forget about that and keep kissing?"

I shake my head. "Not a chance. I'm putting the cream on it right now. The last thing I want is you dying from some lagoon infection."

"It might be worth it if I get to keep kissing you like that," he says cheekily.

I give him an eye roll and he breaks into a wide, toothy grin as he unscrews the bottle of cream.

"Let me clean this out and then were searching the lagoon for fish," I tell Firth. "Finding food has to be our first priority. After that, we can kiss all you want."

Firth grins. "Then by all means, clean away."

I chuckle and start to wipe the blood from his neck, replacing it with a thick layer of cream. As I do, I start to feel uneasy. As happy as I am to have Firth like this, it's also very dangerous for the both of us. When I entered this arena, all I wanted to do was come out of it alive. Now there's someone I care about in it, and that makes things fuzzy for me. Would I rather die in here, happy and in love? Or would I rather win. I'm ashamed when the answer pops into my head. Despite the mixed feelings I have about everything. I know one thing is clear; I want to go home. I want to win.

But for me to win, Firth has to die. There's no way around that, no matter what I do. And that in an of itself is the biggest challenge of these Games. Not the surviving, not the killing of other tributes. Those are things I can handle. But this? _This_ is what will break me. If I lose these Games, this is will be why. And that's very, very scary.


	23. The Final Gift From Finnick

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Firth and I are both lazy and distracted, and its mostly Firth's fault. It's hard to get anything done when every time I look up at him, he's giving me some kind of cocky, cheeky grin. That, and every time he even walks past me and grazes my arm, my skin gets so warm it feels like it's going to burst into flames, and my cheeks burn bright red. Firth seems to enjoy this, and takes great pleasure in trying to get me to blush. He's kissed me at least twice since I've cleaned his neck and you can almost feel his aura of happiness shining around us.

I'm happy too, but for me it's a little harder. My newfound closeness with Firth only serves as a distraction from the darker demons that are clouding my mind. We're now in the top four. Only Garnet and the Tribute from District Four remain. The end of the Games is so close I can taste it, and that's both exciting and terrifying. Not to mention, my kill list is no way longer than I ever intended. Four kills? That's a Careers list. It's almost impressive that I of all people, managed to kill that many tributes. Impressive and horrifying. I don't care how necessary it was, or if it was for survival, walking around knowing you've taken the lives of four people is horrifying. I can't help but think about what everyone else thinks of that number. Finnick will be thrilled. Hopefully not thrilled that his tribute is dealing with such turmoil, but at the prospect of being right. After all, he was the person who looked past the pretty face and saw the potential underneath the surface. When Finnick first told me he thought I had a chance at winning this thing, I thought he was crazy. Now? Not so much. Finnick looked closer and saw something dark in me. Something he, as a victor, recognized. They always say, good people never win the Games, because you have to kill at least one other person to win, and good people don't kill people. If that's true, what does it say about me? I've already killed four tributes. And if I want to win, I'll have to kill at least one more. Could I live with that? Spending the rest of my life in District Four as a rich victor, knowing I took five lives? I don't know. Wilder never killed that many people, not that he had the chance. Would he have, if he had lived longer? I have no way of knowing. I have no way of knowing whether he would be proud of me or not. If my parents would be. I know they want me to come home, but at what cost? Will they still love me and embrace me on the train ride home if I've killed five teenagers? I decide not to think too much about it. Chances are, I'm going to die here anyway. There's no point in stressing myself out about after, if there isn't one.

I distract myself by fishing. After his neck was clean, Firth boiled and bottled water for us, so we could be hydrated while we tried to find food. I didn't realize how thirsty I was until I took a deep, long, sip of the water. My throat was cracked and dry before, and I go through entire bottle before it starts to feel better. The second I finish it, Firth goes to work boiling another one.

Meanwhile, I take my spear to the lagoon and try to fish. It's harder to do here than it is in the stream or in the ocean. The water here is murkier, so I have to go off of other senses rather than sight. I stand in wait with my spear for what seems like hours, and nothing comes. I move spots frequently and still I sense no signs of fish.

Eventually, I start to get irritated and duck down under the water. I open my eyes and scan the water for any sign of marine life, and find none. No algae or plants. No fish. It's as if the entire lagoon was nothing more than a pool. The it hits me, it is just a pool. A vehicle the Gamemakers made to make sure we didn't die of dehydration. They probably purposefully made sure it had no fish in it. Because there was very rarely a point in these Games that I every went hungry. From the moment I got my spear, I've been well-fed. It looks like the Gamemakers want to change that.

Angry and agitated, I climb back onto the ground. Firth is messing with a pile of sticks and looks like he's trying to put out the fire he started earlier. I don't stop him. It's not like a fire is the death sentence that it was on the first few nights, or in the forest, where everyone is lurking. I barely know where we are in the arena. I sincerely doubt Garnet or the District Three tribute would be able to find us. And if they do? Well there's nothing we can but fight.

"No fish?" Firth asks, raising an eyebrow.

I shake my head. "Nope. Looks like the Capitol is sick of me being able to feed us so easily."

"Are you really that surprised?" Firth asks. "You've been kicking ass at that since the Games started. They probably want to even the playing field a little. Give someone else a chance to show off."

Firth smiles and pokes me in the ribs, playfully. I try to return the smile, knowing he's trying to lighten the mood, but I'm distracted by the prospect of not eating tonight, and that's taking up too much of my mind to focus on much else.

"Are you alright?" Firth asks me.

"What is there's no more food in the arena, Firth?" I ask. "Or if it's all in one place? What will we do then?"

Firth makes a face. "I don't know if there's anything we can do about that, Ep. We can go looking tomorrow if you want. I managed to kill a squirrel before you came along. We can try and see if we can track some of those down. But for now, I think we should just relax a little. Don't you think?"

The idea of relaxing does seem nice. Especially after an entire day of hiking and the arduous task that was killing Fane.

"Relax?" I ask. "I don't think I know what that means."

"That doesn't surprise me," Firth chuckles. "Come on, you can teach me how to swim."

I raise an eyebrow. "That won't be very relaxing for you," I tell him. "I'm a no nonsense teacher."

"It'll be relaxing for you, though," Firth points out. "Something tells me you'll enjoy ordering me around."

I chuckle and Firth follows me to the lagoon. We spend the rest of the day, swimming lazily through the lagoon. It takes hours before Firth can even float on his back without worry, but we have fun with it, talking and kissing in between rounds of dunking him under the water.

"Do you ever think about your life if you were to win?" Firth asks abruptly.

The question catches me off guard. Just seconds ago, we were talking about our favorite kinds of flowers and for a few moments I had been able to forget about the Games. Now, they were once again at the forefront of my mind.

"I try not to," I tell him, stretching my arms out lazily in the water around me.

"Why?" Firth asks.

That's a question I've been asking myself every day since I've been here, so I doubt I have a good answer for Firth.

"I can't imagine there's any kind of decent life, after this," I tell him honestly. "If I make it out of here, that means you're dead and I've killed five people. Do you think I would honestly be alright with that?"

Firth sighs. "I think you'd make it through, if you had too."

My eyes widen in disbelief. Can Firth honestly believe I'd be just fine if something were to happen to him. If I had to kill another person. He can't believe I'm that cold-hearted.

"And what about you?" I ask carefully. "You'd be able to get over all of this and just live?"

Firth shakes his head. "Of course not. But I don't really have to worry about that, do I?"

I blink, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Chances are low that I make it out of here alive," Firth says sadly. "I mean think about it, for me to live, you'd have to be dead. You're a hundred times stronger than I am. Better suited for this, than me. I've known it since the moment I met you in the Capitol. I was drawn to you. And not because you're pretty, which you are, but because people are drawn to you. You're the kind of victor they want. Someone who's tough enough to kill, but kind enough to be adored by the Capitol. And me? I'm just a guy who was okay with an ax."

Firth's speech has stunned me. I have no idea how to respond to something like that. Firth can't be thinking like that.

"But you're strong too," I tell him. "You killed Kenrick and Rex."

"And you killed the Hawke, Mar, Aurelia and Fane," Firth points out. "You're the beautiful girl from District Four who proved everyone wrong and played the Game as a strong player. That's a much more compelling story don't you think."

"You and I both know that doesn't matter," I tell him. "I could easily get killed tomorrow."

"Don't say that," Firth says righting himself in the water. "I'm rooting for you."

Sometimes, when Firth says things like this, I feel a deep painful pit starting to form in my stomach. If we were anywhere else in the world, those words might make me hopeful. Happy even. But here? It's like a knife to the gut. The arena is the only place in the world where having someone you care about is like having a death sentence.

I ignore the cramps in my stomach and lean down to kiss Firth quickly. "Let's not talk like that, okay?"

A smile stretches across Firth's face. "Okay. Let's go back to you trying to drown me."

We swim for a few more hours, trying to enjoy as much of each other's company as we can. It's fun, but eventually the growling in our stomachs becomes so loud and annoying, we realize that we really can't wait until tomorrow to go searching for food. We crawl out of the lagoon, pruned and soaking wet and let ourselves dry off in the remaining hour of the baking sun. While we do,

we take a few moments and try to figure out which way down the mountain would be closer to the maze. That's where Firth thinks the best chance of finding Game is. He tells me very few kinds of animals can survive on the mountain. And the ones who can, like mountain lions, and not ones we can take down easily. It takes more hours of walking and still we don't find anything. If we do hear the sounds of any kind of animals, neither Firth or I are quick enough with the spear and ax, to actually kill it. I try my hand at throwing knives again and realize I was right to focus on the spear. My aims a little off with knives.

By the time it gets dark, we still haven't found anything and I can hear both of our stomachs growling in discomfort. Eventually, we reach the bottom of the mountain just as the Panem Anthem starts to play. From here, we can easily see the long expanse that used to be the forest, and the stone maze in the distance. Irritated and hungry, we make camp behind a tall, thick bush. Tonight, without the safety of an alcove, we decide to sleep in shifts. Well, I decide too. Firth still thinks no one will mess with both of us. I think that's naive. As capable as I think Firth is, he sometimes has a tendency to trust too much. Like with me. He saved me without hesitation, even though I could have killed him. In this relationship, I know I have to be the one to be vigilant. Firth must know this about himself. That's why he's so sure he's going to die and I'm going to win. Not that I plan on letting that happen like that. I will do my best to keep us both alive.

We lean our backs behind the base of an old tree and watch as Fane's picture fills the sky. I can't help it and a tiny smirk crosses my face as I realize Garnet is seeing this picture too. By now, she's realized her district partner is dead, and she knows it was either Firth, the boy from Three, or me who has killed him. She has to be scared. At least a little. I can't help but think a healthy dose of fear would do her good.

"We'll find food, tomorrow," Firth says sleepily. "Don't worry, okay?"

"Yeah," I lie. "We will." But something tells me Firth is wrong. I have a bad feeling about this. In Games past, whenever food get's low, there's usually a reason. It's usually because the Gamemakers are preparing for a bloody fight. One that I don't know if we're ready for.

I don't know why I always wake up before Firth. I just do. Maybe it's because I've barely gotten any sleep since this whole thing has started. My eyes drift open just as the sun starts to rise, leaving light strewn across the arena.

Firth lies beside me, sleeping peacefully, his entire face is a mask of calm. He only fell asleep a couple of hours ago.

Every ounce of me wants to head off and go looking for something we can eat, but I know I can't leave Firth asleep and unprotected. So instead, I sit and wait for him to wake up. The sunrise today is a beautiful one. I watch the entire thing, making note of how the orange colors strewn across the sky here are exactly like the one's back home. I guess a sunset is a sunset, no matter where you see it. If I squint, I can even pretend I'm on one of the big hills back home, just watching the sunrise before work with my brothers. My heart actually aches as I think of them. Zale, Tucker, Lennox, and Byron. There probably getting up now, and getting ready for work. They'll be eating breakfast at our tiny kitchen table, and probably watching recaps of what happened last night. By now, they'll no I've killed Fane, and that I'm hungry. Byron will be just as angry as I was about the lack of fish in the arena. Lennox will be swearing that this is exactly why we should have all learned to hunt lizards. Zale will be reminding him that there aren't any lizards in _this_ arena, so it wouldn't even have helped me anyway. A tiny smile crosses my arm at the idea of that conversation. I can almost hear it in my head. I didn't realize how much I missed my brothers, or my parents. Every inch of my body screams to be home with them. I wish none of this had ever happened. If I had never been reaped, we would all be having breakfast together, trying to ignore the Games and not think of Wilder. Now, they're grieving for us both. If I die, watching the Games will only become harder for them. It will be anguish. That alone, should be enough to get me to fight to win.

Beside me Firth stirs a little bit and starts to wake.

"Morning," he says lazily, reaching around to pull me down and towards him.

I laugh a little at how enthusiastic he is this early in the morning. "I see you're finally up."

Firth frowns. "You always wake up first."

I shrug, "Well I'm better skilled than you,"

Firth opens his mouth to protest, but doesn't get the chance. A loud noise fills the entire arena and soon I hear a voice that I haven't heard in weeks.

It's Claudius Templesmith's.

"Tributes of the 72nd Hunger Games!" he shouts into the arena. "By now, I'm sure you have noticed the decreasing lack of sustenance in the arena."

So, I _was_ right. It wasn't just the fish. The Gamemakers probably pulled all of the Game from the arena. I give Firth a knowing look that he ignores.

"But never fear, young tributes! There will be a feast this evening in the cornucopia. One hour before sunrise. There will be plenty of food, so come and rejoice. This will be the only announcement."

The voice cuts out immediately after that, and I roll my eyes. A feast? Are they crazy? There's no way I would ever go to that. I'd rather starve than lead myself into a trap, that would most likely end with Garnet and the mystery tribute murdering me.

Firth turns to me with a frown. "I guess they want to end this sooner rather than later, huh?" he asks.

I nod. "Bloody deaths are much more fun to watch than seeing us slowly starve to death."

"We should prepare then, right?" Firth asks.

I stare at him, confused. "For what?"

"The feast at the cornucopia," Firth answers. "We need a plan, don't we? We can't just go in there blind."

"A plan?" I ask him in disbelief. "No. There's no way I'm going to that feast. That's a good way to die."

"We have to go," Firth repeats. "You heard the announcement. There's no other food in the arena."

"No other _good_ food," I remind him. "But there's food. We can forage leaves and grass. Sure, it's not as good as whatever's going to be down there, but it's not worth risking death."

"And you're sure about that?" Firth asks. "I had this one beef stew in the tribute center that was so phenomenal it might be worth a stab wound or two."

"Only one?" I joke. "I had that beef stew and it was worth three, at least."

Firth lets out a low, easy laugh and he gives a gentle shake of his head. "Are you sure we shouldn't go? If you are, we won't. But it seems like it might be a waste. What if we don't find leaves filling enough."

I nod. "I'm sure, Firth. I don't want to go." And then something hits me. Something I didn't think about and something I desperately don't want to say.

"You know," I say quietly. "Just because I don't want to go doesn't mean you shouldn't."

"What?" Firth demands angrily. "You want to separate?"

I shake my head. "Of course not. But I also don't want you to starve because I'm too afraid to go to the feast."

"I won't," Firth assures me. "We'll be fine."

"Okay," I tell him. "Then let's go find some food."

Firth and I take a slow start to the morning, picking through the rubble of the forest to scavenge for anything edible. Claudius Templesmith was right about the decreasing amount of food. I keep my spear clutched tightly in my hand all day, and Firth does the same with his ax, but it doesn't' matter, we don't run into any tributes or Game. The wave washed away most of the plant life, and even the bark from the trees. Since I was mostly joking about the grass, we skip that. It takes hours and we still only find mint leaves. Mint leaves have a good taste but the consistency is terrible.

Firth is a good sport and mussles through it, eating as many as he can. I'm the whiner. I complain the whole time we eat them. Mint leaves were one of the few things I managed to pay attention too during the edible plants section of training. Most of the time, I was too focused on the fact that I could fish, I didn't think I needed to learn about what else to eat.

"It's not too late to head to the feast," Firth jokes at the face I'm making while I chew.

I shake my head. "What are you talking about? This is a four-course meal."

"Want the rest of mine?" Firth asks.

I narrow my eyes at him. "I thought you cared about me?"

Firth laughs and swallows the rest of his mint leaves. It makes our breathe smell good if nothing else. And considering it's been Panem knows how long since I've been able to brush them, I can't help but think it's a good thing.

When we resume walking again, desperate to find anything to eat, Firth starts to hum a little. The sound is soft and melodic, and calms me. I don't know the tune, but it feels like I do. After a couple rounds of the melody I have it memorized, but I'd never be able to recreate how nice it sounds when Firth does it.

"That's pretty," I tell him.

Firth smiles. "You like that? It's just a lullaby my mom used to sing to me."

I nod eagerly. "Yeah. I've never heard it before, and it sounds nice in your voice."

"Then I won't stop," he tells me and continues to hum.

I listen eagerly until eventually he gets tired and it stops, but it was so beautiful I've already committed the sound to memory. It plays in my head while we continue to search food.

At lunchtime, we're still a good distance away from even the stone maze, but I swear I can smell the scent of Capitol food drifting through the air. It's so familiar and delicious that I actually stop and lift my nose to the air. Beside me, Firth is doing the same. My stomach screams in anguish at the smells. On a good day in the arena, the smells of Capitol food would be hard to ignore. But while we're starving? It's almost impossible. My mouth starts to salivate.

"You smell that too?" Firth asks, his eyes are slowly closing dreamily as he inhales the delicious scents. He's becoming intoxicated by them.

I nod. "Yeah, but the feast doesn't even start for a few hours. They're trying to draw us in," I remind him. "They're fighting dirty."

Firth's eyes shoot open and he gives me a bewildered glance. "How do you do that?" he asks in disbelief.

"Do what?" I ask.

"Stay so rational and calculating?" Firth asks. "while smelling that?"

"One of us has too," I tease him. Then I nod back towards the mountain. "Come on, if we're smelling that than the other tributes are too. We should get out of here before they start heading down for the feast."

Firth smiles. "Alright, Four. Whatever you say."

Firth slings one of his arms around me and we walk together back towards the mountains. If we head there now, we should be deep enough to be safe by the time the other tributes head down for the feast.

"So what exactly did-" Firth begins to ask me, but he stops short.

Something whizzes through the air past us, and Firth freezes, his blue eyes widening as his mouth hangs open in a strange way.

"Firth?" I demand. "Firth what's wrong?" He doesn't answer. He's just frozen. Unmoving.

Then I see the knife buried in his chest, and the red circle of blood forming in his t-shirt. It takes me a few seconds to understand what's happening, but when I do my blood turns cold and I can't move. I feel like someone's reached into my chest and ripped my heart out. How? How did this happen?

My eyes dart up to see Garnet with another knife in her hand. She smiles at me, and my chest erupts into flames of fury.

I haven't seen Garnet since I left the Careers, but here she is, completely unchanged. There isn't a mark on her porcelain skin, and her long red hair sits perfectly on her shoulders. She twirls her mace in her right hand, but it's her smile, that I can't look away from. The cold, calculating smile of someone who's just thrown a knife at my ally. Then I realize, Firth and I are the exact same distance from her, both easy targets. She hates me, has since the moment she met me, but she chose to hurt Firth and not me. To hurt _me._

She's an evil, manipulative bitch. And I have to kill her.

My spear twitches in my hand and I aim to hurl it at Garnet. She sees me, smiles and runs. She's baiting me. She wants me to follow her. And every inch of me wants too so I can kill her, but I can't. Firth drops to his knees and I remember the knife in his chest. I keep my arm wrapped around him and ignore Garnet. He is my priority right now. I have to help him. So I let Garnet disappear, and turn back to Firth.

"Firth?" I ask him, my voice is high and shrieky. "Firth are you okay?"

Firth nods, "Never….. been….. better" He's panting now, and I have to use all my strength to keep Firth upward. I lower him carefully so that he's sitting on the ground, and for the first time I see where the knife is placed. It's buried deep in the middle of his chest. I realize it's lethal. There's no coming back from this. Firth is going to die. Garnet has killed him. It's like someone's kicked me in the stomach, that's how immediate and intense the pain is. I can feel the tears forming in my eyes and I bite my lip to try and keep them from spilling over. I can't lose Firth. Not now.

"Don't cry…. Epperly," Firth says, reaching for my hand. "…Please."

Firth starts shaking and leans backward. I take his head and lean it against my lap, squeezing his hand tightly in mine.

"What can I do?" I ask, trying to keep my face even. Even so, my voice is strained and the tears are starting to slip down my cheeks.

"Just keep holding my hand, okay?" Firth asks.

"Yeah," I tell him, hiccupping. "Of course." I keep his hand clutched tightly in mine, while Firth shakes.

I know enough not to pull the knife out, but I want too. Looking at it, lodged in Firth's chest is making my chest start to rise and fall. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. Instead I keep running my fingers through his dark hair, and he lets out a tiny little breath.

"Epperly?" Firth calls out my name and it sounds so weak that I can't breathe. I have to physically bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from screaming. I have to be strong for Firth. I have to be strong for him. Even though I'm furious. Furious at Garnet for killing him. Furious at myself for not seeing her sooner. And furious that Firth is leaving me. After everything.

"Yes?" I ask him.

His large eyes look up and stare at me. Their just as wide and blue as the first time I saw them at his reaping.

"Can you kiss me again?" Firth asks. His lips are parted and practically white and he's still shaking.

"You don't have to ask," I tell him and bend my head down to kiss him. His breath still smells like mint, and I can tell he's straining himself, lifting his head too far. After a second, I break it apart and Firth sighs.

"At least I got to do that a few times," Firth says. "I wanted to do it since the moment I met you."

"I did too," I tell him pressing my lips down on his forehead. "That's why I took that knife for you."

"Don't take anymore okay?" he whispers in pain, "You have to win this. Do it for me."

Firth shudders violently and he bites his bottom lip as his entire face drains of color. I can't even imagine the kind of pain he's in now.

I nod. "I will, I'll win." I know it's a lie, but that doesn't matter now. I have to comfort Firth. He's dying, and it's okay to lie when someone's dying. Especially if there someone you love.

Firth squeezes his eyes. "I mean it, Epperly…..no….noble stuff."

"No noble stuff," I promise, giving his hand another good squeeze. It feels like my heart is being shredded inside of my body, and there's nothing I can do about it. The tears start slipping from my cheeks again and Firth's bottom lip quivers. He gives one final shudder then goes still. He literally freezes beneath, his blue eyes wide open.

Then I hear the cannon.

I cover my mouth to muffle my scream. I'm shaking now too, as I watch Firth frozen on the ground, dead.

No.

No.

He's dead. Firth is dead. The only person I've cared about in here is now lying dead. I can't stop the shaking. I can barely keep my hand still as I lean it down to close Firth's eyes. I can't have his bright blue eyes staring at me. Not now that he's gone.

I don't move until I hear the hovercraft directly overhead. I don't want to move, but I have no choice. I squeeze Firth's hand one last time and slink away. I can barely hold my spear as I crawl far enough away to avoid the hovercraft.

The tears stream down my face as I watch the hovercraft lift Firth's body into the air.

Firth is dead. Garnet killed him. I'm alone again in here. As alone as I can be with two other murderous tributes in the arena. Top Three, when Firth and I would've split up anyway. Like we promised.

I never thought it would be me and two other people. I always pictured me and Firth separating, so the last time we saw one another, we'd both be alive. We wouldn't have to see each other dead. Because that's too hard. If one of us was going to die. I thought it would be me. I guess I hoped. So, I wouldn't have to feel like I am now. I thought I'd feel the worst ever after I killed Mar, but this is worse. Definitely worse.

I wrap my arms around my legs and bury my head on top of it, trying to muffle the sounds of my cries. I can feel the grief washing over me like a wave, Immobilizing me with pain. This is it. This is the worst I'll ever feel.

As if on cue, a silver parachute floats down from the sky and lands beside me. A sponsor gift. Now? They're rare at the end. Probably because they're so expensive. Slowly and with shaky fingers, I open the parachute.

Inside of it is a long silver spike, longer than the length of my hand. I've seen on like this a couple of time before at home in the District. It's screws onto the blunt end of the spear, making both sides sharp and lethal. A perfect weapon. It must have been ridiculously expensive this late in the Games. And I know it's significance. The Capitol is still rooting for me. I still have sponsors. It roars something up inside of me. I pick up the spike and attach it to the blunt end of my spear, with numb fingers, and as I do I see it's engraved.

I hold it up to my eyes and read the tiny, etching. It reads; _End This - Finnick_

And that's all I need. Those three words are all I need to strengthen me. A new fire erupts inside of my chest as I pick up the spear. This one isn't grief or pain, it's determination. Leave it to Finnick, to tell me exactly what to do. He's always been right. This time is no exception.

Without Firth, I have nothing to lose. It's time for me to end this.

I'm going to the feast.


	24. The Feast, Part 1

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Determination is the only reason I'm standing. I know enough about survival to know why I have this sudden burst of energy and ferocity coursing through my veins like electricity. This is adrenaline. Finnick's final gift to me has allowed me to momentarily shut the aching pain aside long enough to win this.

Because I'm going too. I'm going to win the Games. I have no choice now. For Finnick. For Firth. For the people I've killed in here. For me.

There's only two people that stand in between me and going home, and I will kill them both if I have too. Killing Garnet will be easy. My fingers are already balling into the fists at the idea of seeing her again. I've hated her since the moment I met her. And now? She's taken _everything_ from me. She deserves to die. A smile stretches across my face at the idea of watching her die. Of watching her mentor, the one who murdered my brother, watching her tribute fall at _my_ hands. The hands of her victim's younger sister. It's so delicious, I can almost taste it.

The feast starts in an hour, giving me just enough time to prepare. This is the final battle. The one the audience has been waiting for since this whole thing began. I won't be caught off guard. I'm going to give them the show of my life. If I die, I will die a worthy competitor, and I'm taking Garnet down with me.

The first thing I do is tie my hair into a thick, ponytail on the top of my head. Having my hair loose and my face won't benefit me, it will just be distracting. That's what Garnet does, and I refuse to be like her.

Then I force myself to eat a generous helping of mint leaves. The taste and smell almost make me tear up at the memory of Firth and his kisses, but I push through. I need to eat something before I head to the fight. I won't let hunger distract me from what I need to do.

Then I move onto my pack. If I'm bringing it with me, I need it to be light. I plan on stashing it before I get to the maze, just in case. There's no point in bringing it with me to the fight. It will just get in the way. I take everything out of it and sprawl it across the ground in front of me. Some of the things are useless now, like the extra socks and containers. I toss those.

My climbing spurs are pretty much useless now too, and looking at them reminds me too much of Firth. But they do have sharp spikes on them, so I rip the metal spikes from the leather harnesses and strap them to my belt. They'd be easy enough to stab someone with, and I'm not going down to that feat with any shortage of weapons. In the end, I keep an extra knife, the healing crème and a full bottle of water in my pack. Just in case this fight doesn't end in the way I want it too, this pack will keep me alive in the days following.

Firth's ax is still lying on the ground where he left it, and I tuck it into the back of my pants, through my belt and put my jacket back on so it's hidden. I'm not as good with it as I am with my spear, but I'm bringing it. It's Firth's, and it would be very poetic to slice Garnet's head clean off with it.

Then I pick up my spear, and weigh it in my hand. It feels just as right as it did the first time I picked it up. And with the addition of Finnick's gift, it's now twice as lethal.

The sun is low in the sky and the smell of the feast is so strong, I know it must be the time, one hour before. The feast is about to begin. I stash my backpack behind a shrub at the opening of the forest and mentally prepare myself for what's to come.

Theirs is no turning back down. I will either come out of this victorious, or dead. This is it. This is the Hunger Games.

The short stretch of plain before I get to the maze is the most nerve-racking. I take it at a jog, my spear held out in front of me. This is not where I want to have this fight out. I want to do it in the clearing, by the Cornucopia.

I want to end this where it started.

It's only seconds before I reach the opening to the maze. The second I'm in it, I relax and let out my breath. I'm momentarily concerned that it will take me a while to make it through the maze to the center, after all Mar was the one who helped me last time, but I realize that won't be a problem this time. Bright Gold arrows have been painted on the stone walls, with the words _Feast this way!_ Emblazoned beneath them.

I snort. The Gamemakers _really_ want a showdown. They won't even let their maze stop us. I take a deep breath and follow them, my spear out in front of me.

By now, the smell of whatever food lies in the Cornucopia is so intoxicating that I wouldn't even need the arrows. Every single smell fills my noise and makes my stomach clench painfully. Stew, Meat, Potatoes, Fish, Dessert, Coffee. I smell it all. Even wine and hot chocolate. They're making it so that it's impossible to ignore the scent. I can't help but wish I had had anything to eat before this. The food is going to be distracting, especially since all I've had to eat is mint leaves. But that's okay. My anger and fury will keep me strong and motivated. Picturing stabbing Garnet over and over is helping to ignore the smells of the food.

I stop when I see the opening to the clearing a few feet in front of me. The smell of the food is hitting me like a wall, but I focus. This is it.

I approach it quietly and slowly. I turn the corner, stepping into the clearing for the first time since the Games.

I wasn't wrong about the smells. The mouth of the cornucopia is filled with everything I recognized and more. Heaps and heaps of delicious, decadent, Capitol food. More food than could have fed all twenty-four of us for a year. This is not meant to sustain us. This is meant to be a joke. But I'm barely looking at the food.

Leaning against one of the food tables, with a glass of wine in one hand and her mace in the other, is Garnet. Her long red hair is draped over her shoulders casually, but everything in her stance suggests she's a second away from swinging that mace. A second away from a fight.

She's waiting for _me_. That much is clear. I don't know how long she's been here, but I doubt she even had anything to eat. Just like me, Garnet doesn't care about the feast. For her, this was nothing more than an excuse to see me. To _kill_ me.

Well, that makes two of us. I hope she's ready.

"Hi Epperly," Garnet says jumping to her feet. She's offers me a wide smile. "Nice of you to finally join me."

She twirls the mace back and forth like it's a toy, but I'd be stupid if I didn't see the power hiding underneath each swing "What took you so long?" she asks innocently. It's that stupid, fake voice she used all of training. My spear twitches in my hand.

"I figured I'd give you a little time to work on your tan," I say through clenched teeth, "You look like you could use one."

Her skin is still a transparent alabaster, as if the weeks in the arena have had to effect on her pasty complexion. Compared to my natural, deep tan, she looks sickly. It matches her personality.

Normally, I don't resort to such catty moves like insulting someone's physical appearance, but for Garnet it seems appropriate. After all, the way I look has pissed her off since day one. Stupid, beautiful, sponsor-stealing Epperly really ruined things for her, with my full hair and big eyes. Tugging at that particular insecurity will make her weaker. Easier to exploit, and kill.

It works. I see the anger flash in her eyes even though her face stays calm. She recovers quickly though, giving me a murderous grin.

"Yes, well. I had to give you time to deal with your boyfriend, didn't I?" she says cruelly, "Shame, isn't it? That you got Firth killed and all. He probably would have been a lot better off if he hadn't chosen to ally with you."

She's smarter than I give her credit for. She knows exactly what strings to pull to get a reaction out of me. Even hearing Firth's name come out of her mouth makes me want to lunge forward and rip her throat out. But I can't. I have to be calculated. No gut reactions.

I repeat Firth's words in my head, his last request of me; _No noble stuff._ Like getting myself killed when Garnet uses him and his death as a pawn to bate me. No. I won't let her do it. The best way to avenge Firth is to kill her and win. I can't do that if I act off impulses alone.

This is our dance before the fight. The predator playing with her prey. If Garnet wanted to win honestly, she'd kill me without the theatrics. But she's from One, and theatrics is all she knows. Her arrogance needs this little foreplay. She's not strong enough to do it without it. I won't ruin it for her. I will play along.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," I tell her. "His death will be avenged soon enough."

Garnet rolls her eyes. "You always were such an overconfident little bitch." She takes a step towards me, mace still swinging. "Time to show everyone that your all talk."

Then it begins. She lunges for me, her mace up and ready to connect with my head. I move in just enough time, and the mace only grazes my side. One of the spikes nicks me and it starts to bleed, but it nothing bad. I made it out of the way before it could do any real damage.

Garnet's eyes are narrowed to slits now. She's irritated she missed her mark. I swing my spear forward hoping to catch her in the stomach, but it only gets her at the very edge of her stomach. I yank it out before she can, and am pleased I managed to draw blood at the very least.

We're now only a few feet apart, circling each other like vicious lions. We've both stuck and missed our aim. We're dueling this out, shot for shot.

I try to jab my spear at her shoulder, but Garnet ducks and I miss. She smiles. Then she aims her mace at my left side and I have to almost dive to avoid it.

"I've got all day, Epperly" Garnet tells me, smiling. "Take all the swings you want."

I smile right back. "Well I don't. I have a family to get home too."

"Right," Garnet snorts. "Like you're ever going home? Puh-lease. I'd bet your family already has a plot in the cemetery picked out for you."

Fury makes me pull my lip back, baring my teeth. Garnet smiles harder, realizing she got the reaction she wanted.

I make sure to keep her at least four feet away from me at all times. That's enough distance to keep her mace off of me.

"You know what? They can one right next to your brothers," she chuckles, dancing around me. "You Steelstroms should get a family discount by now."

"You sure like to hear yourself talk, Garnet," I tell her cooly. I want her to think I'm unaffected, even though it makes every inch of me scream in fury. I can't let it get to me, I remind myself. I can't. I let myself think for a second of what anguish it must be for my parents and my brothers to hear something like that. It will have destroyed them. I have no doubts that they're watching. They probably have already resigned with themselves that they'll need a plot for me. That is their reality.

"Maybe I'll take your head off, too," Garnet says, pretending to weigh her options. "I think it would be good symmetry for your family. I mean it's pathetic enough to have two dead tributes kids, but two beheaded ones? That's laughable don't you think?"

"Keep talking," I urge her. "It prolongs your death."

Now I'm sure my family is nauseated, because if Garnet does kill me here, there is not a doubt in my mind that she will follow through. It's a disgusting thing to say. I'm positive she's come up with the most vile, heinous thing she can, but because she's Garnet, she doesn't stop there.

"Neela and I can dance on the graves of our victims when we visit for the victory tour," she adds.

That's enough. That's all I can take. I use my left hand, the one not clutching my hair, and slip it beneath the hem of my jacket, while my right still pretends to find the best way to hit Garnet. She's focused on the spear she doesn't notice my disappearing left hand. The one that still bares the long scar from Kenrick's knife. The one that will always remind me of Firth, and how much I cared for him.

I use that hand to slowly and discreetly pull one of the spikes from my spurs, out of my belt. The second my left hand closes over it, I say a silent pray that my aim is as good with my left as it is with my right, and let it fly.

Garnet never sees it coming. It buries in the top of her left shoulder, sticking halfway in. She's shocked. She stares at the spike embedded halfway into her shoulder, and the blood circling around it, with utter disbelief. My aim with my left hand is off. I was going for her heart. This will hurt, but it won't stop her. I only have seconds if I want to take advantage of her surprise.

I try to lunge forward and stab my spear into her stomach, but Garnet recovers too quickly. She grabs it with her left hand and knocks it out of the way. It hits her side, not her stomach. It's an odd spot, and while bad, not fatal. It's only wounded her. She swings the mace with her right hand and I feel it slam into my right thigh full force. I let out a bloodcurdling scream and my vision disappears into a spotty blur.

It's more pain that I have ever felt. A hundred times worse than being stabbed. The force of that hit would have hurt if it was a blunt object, but with the spikes? I don't know if my leg is broken or shredded. But I know it's so absorbed by pain, I can barely feel it. I don't know if I can move it.

It knocked me to the ground face down. I pant as my vision starts to clear again. It hit me so hard, Garnet has to actually use all of her strength to rip it back out of my leg. When she does, I swear it takes my leg with me. I wouldn't know anymore, I can't feel it. I try to drag myself off the ground and to my knees, but it's too late, Garnet's already on her feet, clutching her side with one hand and holding her mace with the other. My spear is in my hand and I hurl it upward towards Garnet's calf, but she has the better vantage point. She kicks it away from me. As she does, she swings the mace at my side. Not as hard as before, but still painful. I scream again.

Then she drops down on top of me, using her knees to pin down my arms. She isn't holding her side wound any longer, so the blood is dripping down on me all over my shirt.

She has the advantage and she knows it. She's got me pinned. A horrible smile crosses her face and she drops her mace down onto the ground.

"I'm not going to make this easy for you," Garnet promises me "You deserve to feel everything."

I struggle beneath her, trying to kick her off of me, but she's heavier than I would have thought.

Garnet pulls a thick, heavy knife from her side and traces my lips with its tip. She digs the tip into my bottom lip cutting it open and then lifts it.

"You know what?" she asks. "I think I'm going to mark up that face of yours. I think it's only fair your body goes home with a different face than when you started. Really reflect how ugly you are on the inside, Epperly."

Me? How after everything that's happened in the arena, can Garnet honestly believe that I'm the one whose ugly on the inside. I don't get the opportunity to question her about it. She places the tip of the knife above my right eyebrow and drags it across my face all the way to my chin.

I scream and flail beneath her as she does it, digging the blade deeper and deeper into my skin. I kick and thrash, but her grip is too tight, and only makes her knife shakier. She only stops when she hits my jaw. She laughs while she does it.

The pain is fresh and immediate, as blood pours from the wound, covering half my face in the sticky, red substance. The only solace I have is that she managed to miss my eye. The blood is pouring into my eye and mouth now, and Garnet lets out a shrieking giggle.

"Not so pretty now, are you?" she asks. All I can do is scream and gurgle blood in response, doing my damndest to knock her off of me.

Garnet giggles. "Time for the other side! Really make you look hideous."

I could care less about my how my face looks after this, but Garnet seems to think I do. A couple of face scars don't matter if I'm still alive. Only someone as shallow and superifical as Garnet would think I cared about how I looked. So when she bends back over the left side of my face to carve a fresh scar into it, I throw my head and bite her arm, until it draws blood.

"Ew!" Garnet shrieks, and lifts her legs slightly. It gives me just enough time to free one of my hands. I don't know where my spear is and don't have the time to find it, so I lift slightly and reach underneath me to free Firth's ax from the back of my belt.

It takes all the strength I have to get to my feet and even then I almost fall over immediately. The bone in the top of my leg has to be broken. I can barely stand on it, without feeling white hot pain. If I have to move, I'll have to drag it.

Garnet had just gotten to her feet. Her eyes widen in surprise at the ax in my hand, and I flash her a wide, crooked smile.

I swear for the first time I see fear in Garnets eyes. She still clutches the knife and her mouth pulls into a line. But she's shaky. She knows it's over for her. I have the advantage now. And even if I didn't, she's far too wounded to take me on.

One swing. That's all it takes to slam the ax into her stomach. It doesn't go all the way in, but it does go deep enough that the red, blood starts to flow quickly.

Her eyes widen as she backs up away from me, towards the entrance to the maze. She wants to run, but I won't let her. I may have to drag my leg, but she can't move very fast with that wound either. That's major organ damage, I'm surprised she's still standing.

I see my spear on the ground in front of me, and pick it up. Garnet's silent now as she backs up towards the maze, like a wounded animal. She knows it's over her. She know's I'm going to kill her.

"This is for Firth," I tell her.

I lift my spear for the final blow and Garnet lets out a strange, terrified shriek.

That's when the silver arrow shoots through the air and skewers her in the neck.


	25. The Victor

**(AUTHORS NOTE: HEY GUYS! THERE WILL BE ONE FINAL CHAPTER AFTER THIS ONE, SO LOOK OUT FOR THAT)**

I feel fury first, not fear, when Garnet's body slams to the floor and the cannon rings out. Her death was so close I could feel it, and now that it's here, I'm disappointed.

 _I_ was supposed to be the one who delivered it.

I was the one who was supposed to kill her. I can't help but feel cheated. It was the moment I waited the entirety of the Games for, and someone took it away.

Someone. That stops me in my tracks. I realize _someone else_ killed her. There's another tribute here.

Mystery tribute has arrived to the feast.

I have just enough time to stop being surprised to see the tribute from three standing in the opening of the maze, and he's stringing another silver arrow into his bow. One that's meant for _me._

I drag my broken leg behind me as fast as I can and dart behind the golden Cornucopia, spear in hand. I have to duck to just barely miss an arrow as it shoots through the air where my head was a second before. Dammit he's quick.

There is still sticky blood covering every inch of the right side of my face, and I know it must make me look even more broken and injured than I am. Gruesome, even. Garnet did exactly what she wanted too. The audience will have trouble seeing me as pretty Epperly right now. I look wounded and wild. The face wound doesn't even hurt anymore. It's my leg that hurts worse, and my pride.

I was so preoccupied with killing Garnet, I had forgotten I might have to fight the mystery tribute after. I always pictured Garnet as the ultimate competition. Every scenario in my head, where I killed her, ended with me being victor. I don't know I forgot about the boy from three. Even though I forgot about him for most of the Games. That was how he made it so far didn't he? By being forgotten and deadly.

I carefully peer over the top of the cornucopia to get a better look at him. He's young. Younger than I remembered, fourteen or fifteen, with pale skin and sandy blonde hair. I remember his name the second I look at him, it's Colt. He spent his entire interview talking about his sister back home.

He has another arrow slung in his bow now and he's making his way over to the Cornucopia. To _me._ Unsurprisingly, he doesn't have a single scratch on him. Not one. He probably didn't have to take a single hit during the Games. I want to yell at the thought of that. How many times was I scraped, stabbed or beaten in this arena? Countless, and he walks away without a single scratch.

"I saw how injured you are, Epperly," he calls as he slowly makes his way to me. "You and I both know you can't run on that leg."

So, he knows my name? That's mildly annoying. He's ballsy too, but I guess with how well he's done in these Games, and his current position in the fight, he can afford to be. And he's right. I can't run on my leg. He has every advantage.

"Waiting and watching, Colt?" I call back to him, making sure he knows that I know his name too. "That's a good technique."

Colt stops in his place, and he does genuinely look surprised. Then he shrugs, "I figured I'd let the remaining Careers beat each other to a pulp. That's what people want to see, right? And then it would be easy to pick off the one that didn't survive, because they'd be exhausted or badly wounded. Or both. Like you are."

He's a genius. He outsmarted every single one of us in this arena.

"That's smart," I call back to him, clinging to the Cornucopia for support. "Too bad you didn't follow it. You killed Garnet yourself. You could have let me."

Colt smiles. "So, you could avenge the boy from seven? No. That's too poetic. I couldn't let you do that and have the audience root for you to win."

I chuckle. What an evil genius. "No I guess you couldn't have that, could you?" I call back.

Colt shakes his head. "I am a little surprised it ended up being you and me here," he says. "I had my money on the redhead killing you bloody."

I grit my teeth. "Well sometimes people surprise you,"

"Not often," Colt snaps back.

He moves a little closer to where I am and I don't know what to do. I'm frozen in place. I can't outrun him and I can't even fight hand to hand because he has a bow and arrow, a distance weapon.

Suddenly I realize, I'm not the best victor here. Colt is. If the top two showdown had been between Garnet and I, I would be a fan favorite. The pretty Career who overcame mediocrity and became a ruthless killer? That's a headline. But Colt has a better one. The young, overlooked tribute turns deadly and kills off final, tough career. That's a victor. The audience might not be siding with me on this one.

I wish more than anything I could talk Finnick. He would know what to do. Whether I should fight tooth or nail or give up with some of my dignity.

"Come on out, Epperly," Colt calls. "If you do, I'll make it quick. One clean arrow to the heart. The audience already got to see their bloody brawl with you and Garnet. Just come out and this whole thing will be over."

For a second, I consider it. Colt has no real motivation to hurt me any more than he has too. He already knows he's going to win. Unlike Garnet and Kenrick, death at his hands might be quick and painless, procedural even. All I have to do is let him.

I honestly consider it for a moment. I'm broken, injured and beaten beyond repair. I can barely move on my broken leg, and I can't out run his arrows.

Colt doesn't seem keen to give me time to think it over. He's already moving closer to me on the other side of the cornucopia. Only a few feet from me. I trace the inscription on my spear with one of my pointer fingers, reading it over once more.

 _End this – Finnick._ I read it over and over in my head.

End _this._ I blink quickly. It says end _this._ Not Garnet. Finnick wants me to win. To kill whoever, I have too. He did not get me this far, to give up. I will not give up.

I scower the ground behind the cornucopia, desperately searching for anything that will help me. This is where the other Careers' made camp, and it's littered with their old, abandoned things. I rifle through all of it with clumsy hands, trying not to think about how much pain I'm in, or how so much blood fills my right eye, I can hardly see.

I want to scream, there's nothing even remotely useful here. And then I see it. The tiny, slingshot. A useless and pointless weapon when compared to the other things this arena was filled with, but now? It's a godsend. I pick it up quickly and weight it in my hand. Then I have the idea. I pluck the other climbing spur from my hip and press the blunt end into the slingshot. With a little maneuvering, it becomes a tiny, deadly bow and arrow. Not quite as terrifying as Colt's, but it might be my only chance.

"I don't have all day, Epperly," Colt calls. "If you don't come out, I'm coming back there. And then I'll be angry."

"Okay," I call out to Colt, as innocently as I can. "I'll come out."

Colt smiles. "Toss me your spear," he calls. "Then I'll know you're serious."

It takes everything I have to toss the spear over the edge of the cornucopia. That is _my_ weapon. The weapon that _fed_ me. The one that _protected_ me. That spear is me inside of the arena. It is what I want to end these Games with.

Taking it away from me, is Colt's final antic to end me. I grit my teeth as t clatters to the ground. Colt kicks it backward behind him and way out of my reach.

Somewhere in the Capitol, I know Finnick is screaming profanities at the screen, or maybe he knows I wouldn't give up this easily. I don't care which. As for my family, I know they believe the lie. In District four, they think I am giving up. Not that I blame them. They don't know Hunger Games Epperly. They only know the old me. The one who didn't kill people and gave up when it was time. But this Epperly? This Epperly doesn't go down without a fight.

I know what I am about to do is risky, and might not work, but I have no choice.

Slowly, I drag myself around the cornucopia until I'm about to face him. He's clutching his bow and arrow, aimed and ready, triumphant and smiling. He thinks this is over.

He can't see me yet. I only have a second. As soon as I step out in front of him, I aim the slingshot, and let it fly. He's caught off guard, but it doesn't stop him from shakily releasing his arrow at me. At the exact same time, our weapons hit their marks.

My makeshift spike/arrow lands in the middle of his chest. His arrow punctures me in the stomach.

We both fall to our knees. I'm already in too much pain to feel the warm, sticky pain of the arrow in my stomach, but I know Colt is feeling his. In front of me, he stares at the spike in his chest unsure of whether or not to pull it out. I don't know where it hit and I don't care. We both only have seconds.

His sheath is empty. His last arrow is buried in my stomach. If he wants to finish me off, he'll have to do it with his bare hands.

We both lunge for one another, half-crawling, half-dragging. We look like corpses, fighting our last battle before death. If I wasn't so worried, I would recognize the poetry of it.

This is it. There is no one else here. Each one of us, is the only thing standing in the way of the other becoming Victor. Of this whole thing being over.

Looking at him now, with a spike in his heart and surprised, Colt looks his age. He is young. Naïve enough to believe the seventeen-year-old Career, no matter, how injured, was going to surrender to him.

We reach other in seconds, and Colt reached for my face wound, digging his fingers into it sharply, and making me cry out. For all I know, he's causing permenant. damage. Not that I care. I have bigger concerns than my face.

His other hand reached for the arrow in my stomach, trying to force it in deeper. He gets about an inch, but that's all. My hand closes around the spike in his chest and rips it out. He lets out a breathy scream.

The momentary hesitation is all I need. I plunge the spike back into his heart.

I hate that I have to do it, and I don't want too. Colt is not a bad person. He is only killing me to try and get home. Same as me. If the roles were reversed, either one of us would do the same thing. We're forced to kill one another. This is what the Capitol has forced us to do.

I don't enjoy what they make me do next.  
I'm crying, as I stab the spike under his jaw, until his skull. Colt freezes and I feel him stop fighting beneath me. I watch his eyes fill with tears, become glassy and then widen. I feel him freeze beneath me, immobile.

I have made my fifth kill.

Then the cannon sounds overhead. The final cannon. Colt is dead. I am the last one alive. I feel like someone is sitting on my chest now, making it hard to breathe or focus.

I have won the Games.

I fall backward on the ground, still sobbing from the pain, both physical and emotional. Can it really be over? I feel like I'm dreaming. My chest rises and falls as I sob, still clutching the spike in my hand. I can't feel anything but pain, and sadness.

Claudius Templesmith's voice fills the arena again, but I can barely hear it over the ringing in my ears.

 _"_ _Ladies and Gentlemen! The victor of the 72_ _nd_ _Hunger Games, Epperly Steelstrom!"_

I recognize my name. My name. I am the victor. It makes my head spin.

This can't be real. It doesn't feel real.

I don't hear the hovercraft. I only feel it when it lifts me from the ground and into the sky. I'm so absorbed by pain, I barely feel anything.

A minute later I'm submerged inside of the clean, white hovercraft surrounded by Capitol attendants and healers, all of whom immediately start circling around me.

I don't know if it's from the pain of them touching my injuries or the fear of being crowded after the arena, but I start the fight them, waving the spike around at them, until one of the brutish men rip it from my hand, and cover my mouth with a cloth.

It's covered in a drug of some kind. It has to be, because a second later I drift asleep.

I wake up instantly terrified. For a moment, I don't know where I am. I only see a white bed in all white room, and I'm confused.

Then everything hits me like a ton of bricks; Firth, Garnet, Colt, the arena. The hovercraft.

I won the Games. I am a victor. I'm going home.

I can't think about that, or what's inevitably coming. I have to start small, focusing on me and my physical self. The entire right side of my face is throbbing painfully, but I don't touch it. I'm too afraid to feel it. Instead I look down at my body. I can barely feel it, which makes me think I'm on some kind of serious Capitol pain medication. I'm wearing a thin, paper cotton robe that's obscuring most of my view. My hands start to shake as I pull it up. I decide to start with my legs first. I wiggle them both in the bed and find that I can move them. I breathe a sigh of relief. My right thigh, the one Garnet smashed with her mace, is all stitched up and purple from bruising, but I don't care. I'm just thrilled it's still attached and mobile.

I observe the rest of my body slowly. The wounds and scars from the arena that should litter my chest and torso have either disappeared or are tiny faint, pink lines. I scowl. Some of these would have taken months to heal like that, some might never have. I can't have been here more than a day. There's no way my injuries would have healed like that on their own. Not this quickly. If you looked at my naked body right now, you would never have known I was in the arena. Leave it to the Capitol to make sure that their beautiful tribute remains that way. That's who they sponsored after all.

Then I remember something, and open the palm of my hand. It's perfect and unscarred. The thin, red line that used to be there, is gone. Like I never took that knife for Firth at all. Like it was dream. That makes my slam my fist onto the bed as hard as I can.

I ignore the residual fuzziness I feel from the pain medication as swing my legs over the edge of the bed and onto the freezing marble floor. The room I'm in seems to be some kind of hospital or hotel or something. A holding place no doubt, for the recovering, feral victor. I wonder how long they'll make me stay here. Enough time to make sure I won't murder one of the Capitol attendants probably. I scan the room as see there's a chrome silver door, with no handle and a floor length mirror across the room.

The mirror is imposing, and terrifying. Much more than the door. I'm terrified to see what I look like. Not because I'm worried about being beautiful or not, but because I don't know if I candle seeing the person who's looking back at me. It won't be the person I remember. I'm forever changed from this experience. The thought alone is enough to make me break down.

There's a set of white, cotton clothes at the end of my bed. With numb, clumsy fingers, I pull them on slowly. I'm trying really hard not to think about the Games as I do. I focus on thinking about the clothes instead. They're soft. I picture Garnet, Mar, Hawke, Audra, Kenrick, Fane. They're white. I see Firth, and Colt. All of their faces are haunting me, popping up over and over in my mind. My eyes dart back to the mirror in the corner. I need to see myself. I have to face what I've done.

I walk slowly over to it and then stare back at the girl looking at me. At first, I'm scared of how the same I look. I have the same tanned skin. The same green eyes. The same full lips. The same, bronze colored hair. I look the old me, and that's scary.

Then I see it.

The deep, nasty, flesh colored scar that runs from the top of my eyebrow, down my cheek and to my jaw. The souvenir from my fight with Garnet.

I knew the moment she cut me that deep, and when Colt ripped at it, that it would leave a nasty scar. This scar, is not that one. Sure, it's still noticeable, but it's not as red, deep or monstrous as I expected it to be. This must be the residual effect of several Capitol procedures. It must have been really bad if they couldn't completely erase it. I wonder how gruesome it would look without the Capitol's surgeries and procedures. I guess I'll never know. I know they must have worked tirelessly to make it look like this. Finnick and the rest of the Capitol would want me to look as beautiful as I did the moment I entered the arena. And this scar? It's noticeable. Sure, I'm still pretty, but I'll never be as beautiful as I was before. The thought of it makes me smile a little.

The scar throbs painfully as I run my forefinger over the scar.

I'm actually blissfully happy that it lingers there on my face. It's a reminder to me, and everyone I meet of what I went through in that arena. A reminder that I am not the same person I was when I left District Four.

Just as I turn away from the mirror, the chrome door opens. I freeze, my hands turning to fists, ready to attack anyone who approaches me too fast. I stop when I see whose walked into the room.

It's Finnick.

He's paler than usual and his bronze colored curls are flat and messy, like he has been asleep for hours. He stops in the doorway and stares at me, his face blank. It's the most thoughtful and respectful I've ever seen him look. It's almost hard to recognize him like this.

"Well," he says, pausing, "You've looked better."

Then I recognize him, as the confidence fills his face and he breaks into a wide smile. It's so cheeky and arrogant. Classic Finnick.

"I've been through a thing or two," I manage to say. My voice is cracked and strange.

Finnick shrugs, smiling wilder. "Still, you could've left Merrill and I a little something more to work with."

"Live and learn," I say back.

Finnick smiles. "Well, _live_ you certainly did."

We're standing a few feet away from one another, and as disturbing as it is I know why. Finnick is trying not to crowd me. He knows what it's like to return from the Games. He knows the turmoil that raging in my head. He's been through everything I have right now. That's why he's was so damn helpful in that arena.

Staring at him now, I can't help but feel the gratitude that's erupting from every pore. Finnick is one of the real reasons I am standing here now. I owe my life to this handsome, cocky bastatrd.

"Finnick," I whisper.

He blinks. "Yes?" he asks cheekily.

"Thank you," I tell him.

Finnick's eyes widen and his mouth parts slightly. For the first time, I see grief and sadness washed across his perfect features. He is mourning. For me. He nods quietly.

That's all it takes for me to cross the room and throw myself into his waiting arms. Finnick doesn't hesitate, hugging me back tightly as I sob into his shoulder.

. Finnick understands the burden of being victor. Finnick knows the horrors I can't stop seeing.

I'm shaking and I cry and Finnick gives me a comforting squeeze.

"It's going to be okay," Finnick whispers. "You're alive."

He gives me a comforting pat on the back and we break apart. I wipe at my tearstained eyes as I do. I see tears in his eyes too and realize that Finnick is just as emotional as I am. It's a strange sight.

Finnick and I are now connected in a way I will never be with anyone else. Finnick kept me alive. The Mentor-mentee relationship is one I doubt we'll ever sever. I guess I'll have to be friends with him now. The man I looked at with indifference before, is now someone just as important to me as my family.

My family.

My heart screams inside of my chest as I realize I'll see them again. My parents. Zale, Lennox, Tucker and Byron. I'll get to see all of them again.

"Are you alright seeing Merrill and the prep team?" Finnick asks, motioning to the door. "They're dying to see you."

I nod excitedly. "Yes, I'd love to see Merrill." My stylist is one of the few people I've met in this whole thing whom I care about. She believed in me just as Finnick did. She's family now too.

Finnick nods and leads me through the chrome door. Every step I take is difficult for me. I'm still sluggish from the pain medication and actively trying not to think about the Games.

When I do see Merrill, she's with Devereux and they both burst into tears when they see me. So, does Mags and my prep team. Each of them take turns embracing me in tearful bear hugs and tells me how proud they are. It's hard for me to be this close to people. I still shake a little and my eyes stay wide and fearful, like a wild animal. Finnick watches me carefully, almost studying me. I guess he recognizes the behavior. The others seem prepared for this, and try their best not to overwhelm me. It doesn't help much. My right hand still twitches for the spear that isn't there. It makes me wonder how long I'll be able to go before I still act like I'm in the arena.

None of them mention the scar, which leads me to believe Finnick prepped them ahead of time. I want to roll my eyes at that. It's not as if he can do that for all of Panem. This is my face now. I'll have to get used to the stares.

We take almost fifteen minutes embracing each other before Devereux announces they have to start getting me ready for the after the Games interview.

My skin starts to crawl as I remember what he's talking about. The After Games interview. The one where they force me to sit through recaps and footage of the Games.

They're going to make me relive this whole thing. And so soon after I got out? No. It's disgusting.

Finnick sees my expression and is at my side in a second. Pulling me a few feet away from the Prep team, my stylist and my escort. The Capitol people, I realize.

"You haven't won yet," Finnick whispers in my ear.

"What?" I ask. "What are you talking about?"

His eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a tight line. "This interview, this is the final portion of the Games," he reminds me. "You want to live? You want them to let you be the victor? Then you have to be what they signed up for. Beautiful, deathly tough Epperly. You have to sit through that interview and prove yourself, one last time. This is the hardest part."

His facial expression is so serious and firm, I know he's not joking. I am the Capitols's dancing monkey. The mouse they forced into the maze. And now? I have to sit in front of them, relive my horrors and thank them for it.

Finnick's right. This will be the hardest part.

 **AUTHORS NOTE: THERE WILL BE ONE MORE CHAPTER AFTER THIS AND SOME BIG STUFF HAPPENS SO STAY TUNED**


	26. The After

There's no denying what I'm about to do. The stage lights are too bright, even from behind it, and the sounds of thousands of voices talking and giggling are too loud to ignore. I'm incapable of forgetting exactly where I am. Still, I try. I stand still as stone, my eyes pressed tightly closed as my prep team put's finishing touches on me behind the stage. In a minute, I'll walk around the curtain and be embraced by the penetrating stare of all of Panem. I will have to face the Cesar, Capitol citizens, the people of the districts, the Gamemakers, the families of the dead tributes, and the President himself. I will sit and watch my most horrible and painful memories with crowds of people, and then we will sit for an hour and a half to dissect them. I twitch in anger at the thought and my eyes drift open suddenly.

"That's enough touch-ups ladies," Finnick tells the prep team, dismissing them. "She's as good as she's going to be."

The gesture is innocuous, but I know he's only doing it to give me a second of farewell advice. I've learned how to dissect Finnick's behaviors to the point of insanity. It was the only thing that kept me alive in the arena, and that's a hard habit to shake.

The prep team throw me proud glances, and Merrill stops to place a quick kiss on my cheek. "You'll be fine out there," she assures me. I give her a weak smile in response. Finnick waits until there gone and then turns to me.

"Spin," he orders, "I want to get a good look at you."

I roll my eyes and twirl slowly for him, knowing that if Finnick is asking, there has to be a good reason for it. Its not the way it used to be. If he had asked me to that before all of this, I'd have tried to cut his tongue out. But now? I listen.

Finnick watches me carefully and says. "I'll give you this, they followed your orders. You look deadly. And hot, of course. But mostly deadly."

My instructions to Merrill and the prep team had been very clear. I wanted to look terrifying. After all, my story arc had been simple. Beautiful, overlooked tribute turns ferocious and deadly in the arena. There were only two routes I could take with my after-games interview. I could be the flirty, bubbly Epperly that the Capitol saw in my first interview, or I could be the changed, fierce tribute they saw in the arena. People are less likely to ask probing personal questions to someone they're afraid of, so I chose the latter. And that meant making this transition clear. The prep team didn't disappoint. The dress I wear is black, long sleeved and tight all the way to my calves. Per Finnick's request, the neckline plunges, and panels on the sides are sheer. It's revealing and terrifying at the same time. My makeup is the same. They lined my eyes with thick lines and shadows of black charcoal and coated my lips with a dark, deep red. My scar is prominent too. The prep team wanted to cover it with makeup but I wouldn't let them. The audience needs to see it. They need to understand the person they created in there.

Finnick gives me a curt shake of his head, and one of the Capitol attendants flit by to tell us we only have a minute left before I need to be on stage. I can already here Cesar Flickerman speaking on the stage. Finnick pushes me forward, a leading hand digging into my shoulder.

"Remember," he hisses softly in my ear. "You can be cold. You can be terrifying, but at the end of the day. They want you proud."

I let out a tiny, cruel laugh. "Proud? That's rich."

Finnick gives me a warning face. "Now is not the time Epperly. If you want to scream and throw things about how cruel the Capitol was to you, you do it back home in Four. For the next three hours, you do what you need to."

He's right, per usual. So I steady my face and get ready for what's ahead.

Then I hear Cesar, _"Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you the victor of the 72_ _nd_ _Hunger Games, Epperly Steelstrom!"_

That's my cue. I make sure my face is only pulled into a tiny smile and I look as unapproachable as I can as I take a step out onto the stage. The resulting scream from the crowd is so loud, it's deafening. They're excited, _thrilled_ , to see me. They scream and gasp and cheer. They're reacting to my scar, my outfit, and me. Their victor. I don't know which, and I don't care too. I walk quickly, and the moment I'm submerged onto the stage, I can hardly see. The crowd in front of me is so tall and spans so high, I can't see where it stops or starts. It's at least twice the size of the first interviews. How did this many people come out to relive the Games? It's sick. I'm unable to keep the horrified expression from crossing my face, and I can almost hear Finnick sigh, even over the screams of the crowd. Thankfully, they must mistake my facial expression for nerves, or simply don't care, because Cesar approaches me carefully and pulls me into a hug. Then he sits me down on in one of the two chairs on the stage. The one he sits in is simple, like the first ones. The one he sits me down is inlaid with gold and plush. It's not a chair, it's a throne. Fit for a victor.

"Nerve-wracking, huh?" Cesar chortles gesturing to the hooting crowd. I give a gentle shake of my head, "Very." My voice is tense and harsh. I plan to keep it that way.

The crowd begins to simmer down, anxious to listen to us speak. They're eyes are glued to Cesar and I. Sick, voyerusitic fools.

"So, Epperly," Cesar says. "I have a lot of questions to ask you tonight and I know everyone is dying to hear the answers, but before I do, let me just say, Congratulations on becoming victor. I think I speak for all of Panem when I say, I'm glad it was you who won."

The crowds screams again in response. I want to shiver. Of course, they're glad. They were taking bets on us.

I give the tiniest, forced smile I can muster. "Thank you, Cesar."

Cesar grins, "Curt aren't we? Don't worry, we'll get her talking after the recap, won't we?" He and the audience laugh together. I dig my nails into my palm. Cesar turns back to me with a wide smile, "Alright, without further ado, I'd like you all to watch the recap of the 72nd Games."

Immediately, the lights dim until it's practically black in the room. The giant, building sized projector immediately fills the room with the seal from the Games, and the footage starts to roll.

The entire audience sighs and settles in to watch.

The recap is an hour and a half. It's supposed to show the Games as a whole, but because I am the victor, it focuses mainly on me. It starts with my reaping. I watch my face as my name is called and everything changes. It feels like a lifetime ago. It's hard for me to watch. When they flip through the other reapings, they pause on District seven and eight. My allies. My stomach flips violently when I see Firth's face for the first time since he died. It's like ripping at a wound, that's how immediate the pain is. It's Firth. Happy, beautiful, blue-eyed, _alive_ , Firth. My hand flies to my mouth, and I suddenly feel like I'm going to throw up on the stage. I don't. Instead I dig my nails into the plush armchair and bite the inside of my cheek, breathing slowly through my nose. I won't let the audience and the Capitol see how much it's getting to me. I watch the rest of the recap this way, sullen and hostile.

I see my interview, and the parallel to right now is jarring. Then it cuts to the start of the Games. The camera zooms in on me as the countdown happens. Only then do I notice my placement. I knew I was next to Mar, but on my other side I see.. Colt? Yup. There's no denying it. I started the Games right beside my biggest competitor, and didn't even know it. Stupid. I was stupid to discount him. Then the Games start and I watch the bloodbath all over again. It's awful to relive how savagely the Careers killed everyone. I see Firth kill Rex. I never saw that in person, it's quick and skilled. Then it happens and I gasp. I take the knife for Firth. The audience gasps and some cheer. It's clear there, in both of our eyes, how much we cared for one another. I feel like an idiot I didn't see it before. The Capitol doesn't let me linger in the moment, they immediately cut to Kenrick yelling at me, towering over me red faced and screaming. God, it's just as terrifying to watch now. Kenrick still makes me quiver with fear, even though I know he's dead. Then they show a montage of Garnet and I's tiny confrontations, building the tension no doubt.

Then there's me fleeing the careers. I find out the girl I used for my distraction was running from Colt. _Figures._ I get to see for the first time how furious everyone is with me for leaving. It's clear they were out for blood. Then they cut away to the other tributes. I watch Colt kill several of them, and the Careers hunt the others down. They show Firth and Mar, and what they were doing early in the Games. I have to watch all the other tributes die. It's weird putting together the parts of the Games I didn't see. All of this was happening right under my nose. This was the Games everyone else got to see.

Then they're back on me. Me wandering out of the maze. Finnick's first gift. The audience chuckles when I swear at him, before realizing how precious this gift was. Me darting arrows. Me fishing. Then my first kill, Hawke. The boy from ten. It's disturbing to watch how easily I killed him. I can't watch it without choking. The audience screams as I spear him.

Then comes Mar. I watch myself tower over here, and realize how quickly I almost killed her. We become allies instead. That's hard to watch. In the beginning it was so good, I honestly believed she was a friend. Then I watch our plan. I watch myself murder Audra. Another scream from the audience. Then I have to relive Mar's betrayal and I kill her too. The audience scream is shaking the entire amphitheater. What's funny is the cameras aren't showing any of the after. Not one shot of me curled up against a tree bawling my eyes out. When they show it like this, I look like a ruthless, killer. Not the flawed, weak person I feel like. I wonder if they showed the audience that during the real Games, or did they paint me as an emotionless killer the entire time? I guess I'll never know. I'll have to ask Finnick.

Then they show the top eight interviews. I see my family. All of my brothers and my parents are crowded around our tiny kitchen table. My parents look gaunt and exhausted, but my brothers, they look ecstatic proud. They ask them about my kills, and my skills with fishing. Zale takes full credit for teaching me to spear. Lennox criticizes my fish-spearing. Tucker tells them I should of caught more fish. Byron jokes that I'm going to be the only tribute in history to gain weight in the arena.

When they ask, "Do you think you're sister has a decent chance at winning this?" My parents, Zale, Lennox and Tucker all go blank-faced, and pale. That's when I know they thought I was going to die. But Byron interjects before all of them.

"Epperly's going to win," he says confidently. "She's coming home."  
My heart swells with affection for my youngest, older brother, but I don't get even a second to dwell on it. They cut immediately back to the Games.

I watch more of Colt and the Career's kills. I see myself face those bird mutts. Then there's the Kenrick showdown. The audience gasps and so do I. I see how close I came to being tortured at his hands. Then there's Firth, saving me. I watch our entire exchange. Was I really that desperate to go without him? That seems so ridiculous now. I can't help it. I watch the rest of the footage with my arms wrapped around my legs. It's like undergoing torture, watching all of the happy memories with Firth playing out on the screen. I don't breathe until we get to the waterfall.

I kill Fane. The audience screams, and I brace myself for what comes next. Firth kisses me and the entire audience sighs with sadness. They know what happens, they're all mourning it too. I don't watch Garnet kill him. But I can't stop the tears from running down my face. I bury my head on my knees until they show my final gift from Finnick. You can actually see it on the screen. The moment I read the words inscribed on that spear head. You can see the grief turn to rage in my eyes.

Then there's my showdown with her. That's the only part I want to see. My fight with Garnet is blood, gruesome and horrible. The audience cheers the entire time. From my perspective, I can finally see how close it came. How close we both came to death, and how many injuries I sustained. When she cuts me, my hand flies to my scar. I can still feel the pain. Then the arrow skewers her and the audience lets out another loud gasp. I roll my eyes, they're acting like they've never seen it before. _I'm_ the one whose watching it for the first time, and I'm still behaving better than they are. Then they show the final showdown with Colt. Here, they show all the footage. Right down to the moment I am announced as victor.

The entire audience cheers and claps. Cesar too.

Then the projector goes dark and the lights turn back on immediately, exposing my grieving. I try to straighten myself and hide my tears, but it's too late, everyone's seen. They all are clapping now.

The clapping doesn't die down for several seconds. I take all of this time to straighten myself and turn my face back into the unaffected mask I wanted to wear. But it's not working like before, and I know it. I'm too emotional and raw from what I just watched. I don't feel like trying to hide myself. All I want to do is curl up on the ground and cry for Firth. But I can't. These people won't let me. They're not finished torturing me yet.

The moment the audience's clapping has quieted enough for Cesar to talk, he does. He turns to me with wide, emotional eyes.

"Well, that must have been very emotional for you, am I quite right?" he asks. No one in the audience speaks. I give a gentle nod of my head.

"What are you thinking at this very moment?" Cesar pushes. He's determined to get some kind of answer out of me tonight.

That's when I realize it doesn't matter how I feel or how much I try to hide everything I'm feeling. They will drag it out of me anyway. I have no choice, so I might as well give em hell.

"Raw," I answer honestly, "watching all of that back is terrifying, horrifying…." I stop. "and a little enlightening."

"Enlightening?" Cesar asks, dramatically raising an eyebrow. "How so?"

I take a deep breath, "So much of that I had never seen. I saw things I didn't know. Things I wish I hadn't seen. You guys have all seen this before, but for me it's the first time I'm seeing so much of this."

"Ah," Cesar nods. "I see. Well I cannot begin to imagine how that must feel. Is there anything you're glad you got to witnesss?"

If I was being honest. I was glad I got to relive every moment with Firth one more time, but I refuse to tell that to Cesar and the audience. So instead, I go on to my next answer.

"The showdown with Garnet," I answer effortlessly. "I'm glad I got to relive that."

The audience cheers and I know I've got them hooked. There's nothing they love more than a bloodthirsty tribute.

"That was quite a show? Wasn't it?" Cesar says. "Are you disappointed you didn't get to be the one to kill her?"

This is the only question I don't need to take time to answer. "Yes," I snap.

His face grows very serious and he looks to me.

"Because she killed Firth?" he asks quietly.

This is it, the moment that the entire audience is waiting for. I want to growl, but I don't.

"Yes," I tell them. "She deserved it."

To my intense surprise, Cesar immediately moves onto another frivolous question. I'm shocked, I thought for sure he's make me relive that. How can he not have questions about Firth? But he doesn't. Cesar moves onto another question. That's how it goes on over and over for almost an hour. He asks a mixture of questions, some are simple like about how I fished or where I choose to hide. Some are more personal and difficult to answer, like why did I trust Mar, how did I decide to trust her, and am I angry with Kenrick for trying to assault me? I grit my teeth through those. I also hate reliving my kills. Cesar asks me about each one in great detail, and I get a horrible pit in my stomach as I talk about them.

Then out of nowhere, it comes. Like a bullet, or one of Colt's arrows. Cesar turns to me and says.

"Now, I'm sure you know we all want to talk about Firth?" he says.

Suddenly I can't breathe. My chest tightens and I feel like I'm going to loose all feeling in my body.

"Yes," I say through clenched teeth.

"You loved him." Cesar says. Not a question.

I nod, they audience starts to cry. Then I am forced to answer a serious of questions about Firth that make hot angry, tears slip through my eyes and down my cheeks. The entire audience and Cesar are crying along with me. It feels like I have ripped my heart straight out of my chest and given it to them. I would rather die than talk about it. And as suddenly as it starts, its over. Cesar's moved onto a different topic.

"So," he says swiftly. "When Finnick sent you that spear head with that inscription, I couldn't breathe. How did you feel?"

Finally, a question that doesn't make me want to vomit.

"Empowered," I answer honestly. "It was the motivation I needed to keep fighting, and to end the Games."

"Is that the moment you knew you would win?" Cesar asks.

I shake my head. "No. I wanted to win, but I think in that moment all I was concerned with was making sure that I went out fighting tooth and nail."

"And fight, you did," Cesar says, firing off a series of questions about my final battles with Garnet and Colt. Those are easier to talk about. Those memories are fresher and less painful.

"And I see you came away with a little souvenir from those fights," Cesar says nodding at my scar.

My fingers reach up to trace the deep scar on my face and I give a gentle nod. The audience lets out a soft, sad sigh. Of course they feel bad for me. I'm uglier than I was before. They don't see how important the scar is.

"Does it upset you?" Cesar probes.

I shake my head. "No, it doesn't. It reminds me of what happened in the arena. Of what I h _ad_ to do." I make sure to stress that statement. My final reminder to everyone here that what I went through was their fault.

"Well you certainly did what you had too," Cesar says, "and it paid off. You are the victor. I know your family must be very proud of you. Two children enter the Games and one exits a victor!"

I grit my teeth over the subtle, nonchalant mention of Wilder's tragic death. I guess to them it's only a punchline. A little hiccup to me becoming victor. The crowd cheers for me again and Cesar turns back to me.

"Now, Epperly. As much as I hate to say it. We're out of time. Is there anything else you'd like to say before we go?"

No, but I know I can't say nothing. So I stand and address the entire crowd in front of Panem.

"Thank you to everyone in Panem, for any help they gave me in the Games. I wouldn't be standing here without some of you," I say firmly.

There, let the important people deduce who they are. Everyone cheers and at least a hundred people in the audience look as though it was directed at them personally. Maybe they sponsored me. I don't really want to know.

Cesar takes my hand and holds it high above the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentleman, one more round of applause for our victor, Epperly Steelstrom!"

The crowd erupts into the loudest cheering of the evening. It's deafening, which is a good thing. Now at the very least, I can't hear my own horrible thoughts. I hate the Games. I hate the Gamemakers. I hate the people of the Capitol. I hate everyone who made it so that I had to kill five people, and see countless more, dead. But more importantly, I hate myself. For sitting up here and taking it. If I had any courage, I'd drive my spear through the back of my head. That would make me brave. That would make a tribute. But I'm not, I'm a victor.

Somehow, that's worse.

It sounds ridiculous, but I'm convinced the water smells different. No one listens to me about it, they all chalk it up to being in the arena for so long. _After, all Epperly_ , they say, _the ocean just doesn't start smelling differently._

I guess they're right, even though it feels wrong. I spent my entire life in the oceans of District Four. I never thought it would smell foreign to me. But now it does. It feel different too, like the salt in the water reacts differently to my skin, my new smooth Capitols skin. I know I'm being paranoid. That nothing in this District is actually different, it just feels different to me. Because _I'm_ the one that's different.

Adjusting to being back home has been hard. At first, when Finnick and I first got off the train, my family crowded me, pulling me into tear-filled bear hugs and praying. That part was nice. It was the only time I'd ever seen my brothers cry. I was thrilled to be back home with them. To see them again. I watched Zale thank Finnick personally, and Byron give him shit for giving me too many gifts in the arena. It took a lot for them, I knew how they felt about Finnick before. I hoped there opinions of him now would change like mine did. The district was excited I was home too, they through a loud party on the beach the first day I was home, that lasted all night. I didn't actually go to that. I just wanted to sleep in my own bed, and relax.

That was the first day things started to change. No one knew what to do with me. Whenever someone approached me too quickly or something made a loud noise, I'd jump or brace myself for a fight. They started to look at me like I was a wild animal. Or with sad, reproachful eyes. Those were even worse. Especially, Zale. He barely said two words to me after they greeted me at the train station. I knew my family was glad to have my home, but it was very strange. None of them knew what to say or how to act around me. Mostly, they left me alone.

The day after, the mayor stopped by to bring me to my new house in Victor Village. Situated right between Finnick and Annie's house, was my new eight bedroom mansion. That part wasn't so bad, except for the fact that no one would come with me.

My parents claimed Victor Village was too far from where they worked, which I knew was a lie, but I didn't press them on it. Tucker followed my parent's lie. Lennox claimed he wanted to wait to move in with his girlfriend. Zale flat out told me he didn't want any of my blood money, or to live in a house paid for with the lives of dead children. That launched a fight so bad, it had our neighbors terrified.

"That is not fair," I told him, venomously. "You don't get to do that."

Zale had crossed his arms. "I don't know what to say, do you want me to lie?"

Zale had been cold to me the entire time I had been back from the Games. I didn't know what had caused the attitude, but I wasn't having it anymore.

"I don't want you to make me feel like a murderer," I snapped at him. "Would you have rather I died in the Games?"

Zale shook his head. "Of course not, but I also don't want to be constantly reminded about what you did either."

What. I. Did.

Angry tears slipped down my cheeks and I gave him the dirtiest face I could muster. "Well, I'm living there. So you want have to see me anymore, and be constantly reminded." Then I packed my stuff and slammed the door.

Byron was the only one who followed me. I woke up the next morning in my house in victor's village and found all of his things in one of the bedrooms. When I went downstairs to the kitchen, he was cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

"You're going to live here?" I asked him cautiously.

"Why wouldn't I?" Byron asked. "Have you _seen_ this place?"

My heart had swelled to twice its size at his words. Byron was the only one who wasn't treating me like a feral animal.

"Nothing's different, Epperly," Byron had reminded me. "You're the same person you always were. Everyone else will come around." I gave him the biggest hug I could muster. If nothing else, I had Byron. That was enough.

After that, Byron lived with me in the house full time. He didn't mind when I screamed at night from nightmares, and didn't ask any questions when I placed a spear next to every entrance to the house. He was also gracious to Finnick, who stopped by several times a day. I was right about our new relationship. This shared experience had made us close in a way we couldn't define. We we're connected by horrible memories, and it made it so that we were the only ones who could fully understand what we were going through, or talk too. Annie also. She started stopping by too, and soon we all ate dinner together almost every night. The only hard part about was watching Finnick and Annie together. There effortless love always reminded me painfully of Firth, and I saw enough of him in my dreams at night.

I started spent my days fishing in the ocean, and my nights being taught how to cook by Annie. I didn't like going out in the District much anymore. Everyone stared at me too much and sometimes I'd run into one of Kenrick's brothers and become too upset or terrified to stay out. My old friends didn't know what to do with me. Ginger stopped by the first day I got home, but Byron kicked her out. Apparently she ran sponsorship collections for Kenrick instead of me while I was in the Games. It didn't surprise me, I expected that from Ginger, but it really pissed off Byron, and so she didn't come by again. Ivan stopped by too, but it was very, clear to him that I was uninterested and soon he stopped coming by too.

Eventually, I realized I was destined to spend my days and nights the same way, with Byron, Finnick and Annie. The only people in the District who could stand to be around, wounded, broken Epperly. The people who didn't flinch when my nightmares woke me up screaming.

That's how I lived my life up to the victory tour. That was a whole different kind of torture. Only Finnick and I went. It was horrible. I had to look into the faces of the families of children I had killed. I had to see Mar's sister. I had to meet Firth's parents. That particular meeting almost made me throw up. The only good part of the victory tour was meeting Johanna Mason, Firth's mentor.

She didn't hug me. She didn't congratulate me. Instead she towered over me, with the nastiest expression she could muster and told me point-blank. "If I wasn't him, I'm glad it was you."

"Thank you," I told her, "but I wish it was him." She gave Finnick and I a reproachful glance after that and left.

I got used to my life that. Living the half-life that comes with being a victor. Finnick told me when first got back to District Four that one day I would grow numb to it, and eventually I did. I had no choice.

I had to mentor two tributes with Finnick for the 73rd Games. I didn't want too, but Annie was still too unstable and Mags was getting too old. I knew both of the tributes, the girl was sixteen Mirabella Markham, a couple of years behind me in school. The boy was eighteen and friends with Byron, Sean Halliday. Both volunteers. Finnick told me we always have volunteers after someone in the district wins. He was right, both of the tributes idolized us. It was hell watching them in those Games, like reliving my own ones over and over. They ended up both dying in the top eight. We tried our best to keep them alive, but Finnick knew they were going to die. He told me they didn't have 'it'. That victor quality he saw in me. He said after enough Games I'd be able to recognize it in others. I hoped it never came to that point. That year, a boy from District Two won.

When it came time for the 74th Games, I really didn't want to go. It took me months to get over the trauma of the last one. But as Finnick reminded me, I had no choice. Even from the start of mentoring those Games, I knew something as different. From the moment, I saw the girl from Twelve, Katniss at the reaping, I knew.

Finnick and I were watching the recaps on the train. Our newly reaped volunteered tributes were only several feet away, watching the tv with wide, focused eyes.

"That's it right?" I ask Finnick as the girl volunteered for her sister. "She has the 'it' quality right?"

Finnick doesn't look away from the screen. "Yes," he nods. "She has it."

I watched those Games closer than I'd watched any other. Watching her and her district partner fall in love on the screen was horrifying. It hit far too close to home. I couldn't sleep at all during those Games without being haunted with nightmares full of memories of Firth.

When they both won, I almost went catatonic. They got the ending Firth and I never had a chance to have.

I just hoped they wouldn't waste it.


End file.
